


The Court-Hole Fox

by Moth2Flame



Series: The Game For All [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew on his drugs, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, From the beginning, I'm literally just flipping the story to Andrews perspective, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Suicide Idention, The Foxhole Court from Andrews POV, Trigger warnings for references to past character abuse. Nothing explict, all canon warnings apply, chapter by chapter, convincing i hope, some are from references or cuts of Nora's extra content, some is just my attempt to figure out what went on behind the scenes, some scenes are straight from the book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moth2Flame/pseuds/Moth2Flame
Summary: The kid was running.You could hear it in the beat of sneakered feet against the scuffed and aged floor. The sound ofslap, slap, slap,told the story of the reason why this kid had caught Andrew’s charge’s eye.He was fast. And desperate. Running like his life depended on it.Run, run, run little rabbit. Before the Foxes catch you.A spark of intrigue flashed through his drug-addled mind. A grin so sharp it made his cheeks ache caused him to flash his teeth.This little excursion might be interesting, after all.Basically, its the series based on Andrews point of veiw.From the first time they meet Neil.





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Literally the first time I have ever written any kind of fanfiction.  
> Ever (I'm sure its obvious)  
> After reading the series for the third time this year I've become obsessed with trying to figure out Andrew.  
> I swear every time I read AFTG I discover more about him. Little hints and tells  
> So... I hope I can do Andrew justice.  
> Fingers crossed, eh?  
> Let me know. Please don't be too harsh, I'm extremely green.
> 
> enjoy! (hopefully)

The kid was running.

You could hear it in the beat of sneakered feet against the scuffed and aged floor. The sound of _slap, slap, slap,_ told the story of the reason why this kid had caught Andrew’s charge’s eye.

He was fast. And desperate. Running like his life depended on it.

_Run, run, run little rabbit. Before the Foxes catch you._

A spark of intrigue flashed through his drug-addled mind. A grin so sharp it made his cheeks ache caused him to flash his teeth.

_This little excursion might be interesting, after all._

Kevin looked up at the far off noise that was quickly approaching, eyes off the kids pathetic stats he was pouring over obsessively, as his head tilted in puzzlement.

Andrew was already moving. 

The racket he'd already _acquired_ sat in his palms, the battered and worn bright yellow Exy stick so light compared to his own, but heavy compared to the blades sitting against his pulse.

The steps came louder.

_Slap, slap, slap._

_Time to catch the little rabbit._

A flash of movement was all Andrew needed before he swung the racket half force, manic glee flickering through his haze at the sound of flesh meeting wooden stick, air leaving lungs, and body hitting the floor.

The kid _–Neil Josten-_ was sprawled. Hunched over and trying to breathe on his hands and knees. Andrew was fairly certain nothing was broken. Not out of concern, of course. But Kevin would never stop his bitching if Andrew broke the only striker the obsessive man had even considered. And, unfortunately, Andrew wasn’t allowed to kill Kevin when he started his ranting. Promises and all that. Pesky things.

Sometimes it was a close thing. Sometimes it was just more interesting to watch Kevin’s aggravation over Andrews own uncaring. It was interesting experiment to see how long it would take the broken ex-champion to finally give up. Other times he barely noticed at all.

“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can’t have nice things!” Coach’s furious voice chastened him as he stood there glaring in disapproval.

“Oh, Coach,” Andrews’s falsified amusement rose as he watched the pathetic state of the dark haired kid still trying to breathe, “If he was nice, he wouldn’t be any use to us, would he?”

Poor coach. More intolerable than his incessant need to save the miserable lost causes, was the fact that it was complete altruism with no hidden agenda. Time and time again he learnt the hard way that some people just shouldn’t be saved. His unwavering determination was almost more deplorable than Kevin’s obsessive life-dependency on a stupid sport.

“He’s no use to us if you break him”

“You rather I let him go?” Andrew swung his gaze from the wheezing mess to his coaches disapproving face. He grinned, all teeth, “put a Band-Aid on him and he’ll be good as new”

The kid finally drew a breath, wrapping an arm around his middle as if he could hold himself together before he slanted a furious look up at Andrews’s dangerous face, his brown eyes flashing in warning.

Andrew tapped two fingers to his temple in salute, tone mocking “better luck next time”

“Fuck you,” the little rabbit showed some teeth, “whose racket did you steal?”

“Borrow” Andrew tossed it to a barely recovered Neil, “here you go”

Hernandez helped Neil up and checked him over, but Andrew was already losing interest in this exchange. Coach came around to stand between them, a clear warning as ever for Andrew to back off. Andrew threw his hands up in exaggerated shrug and made his retreat.   
There was no point fighting it. His interest was gone, his quarry caught. A predictable little broken kid with messed up past trying pretend he had bite to his bark.

How Coach could have patience through all of life’s rejects telling him ‘no’, Andrew didn’t know and didn’t care. A waste of time and thought. 

But then there was a flicker of panic on this newest disappointments’ face that had Andrews wiped out brain starting to take notice.

Andrew was used to fear. It was as insignificant as it was uninteresting. Predictable. But this kid, with his fast feet and suddenly darting eyes, was not afraid of Andrew. He was afraid of Kevin.

And wasn’t that just suddenly _intriguing._

“You didn’t bring him here” the angry voice that had snapped at Andrew suddenly sounded desperate and unbelieving.

“Is that a problem?” Coach had picked up on it too.

“I’m not good enough to play on the same court as a champion” Neil’s voice came back stronger, his composure falling back into place. 

Andrew could almost taste the lie in Neil words on his tongue. Andrew pushed himself to focus through the haze in his brain as the high tried to sweep him away.

_Neil, Neil, Neil. Josten, Neil. You are hiding something. Oh, but what could it be?_

“True, but irrelevant” Kevin’s arrogant voice from behind the dark-haired puzzle had finally drawn attention to himself.

If Andrew had any doubts before, he knew he was right as soon as Neil turned and caught sight of the tall ex-Raven behind him. People praised Kevin Day. People loved him. Worshipped him. After his transfer, some even hated him. People reacted in overwhelmed and awe-struck ways when confronted with the shining, polished star that was Kevin Day. Predictable and boring. Inconsequential and irrelevant.

But the intensity with which this kid –this no-one, Neil Josten- stared at the newest addition to Andrew’s pack was nothing like that. No, this was a warning trigger that took Andrews full focus.

Neil’s body was tensed to fight, but his body turned to run. The grip on his bag said he was trying to keep in check but Andrew could see the strain. There was awe, and fear, and an intensity on Neil’s face that didn’t add up. Not for a high-school rookie in a backwater town. This was something that Andrew had to watch.

The exchange was contradictory. The stubbornness and anger fighting with the deep rooted fear pinning this kid to the spot. Andrew would figure it out. He always did. People were the books that Andrew read. The puppets on strings to push and pull and play and watch for his own amusement. Predicting their plots and figuring out what made them tick. 

Andrew didn’t trust this Neil Josten, but he had a feeling he might have fun playing with this one, at least for a little while. Like a life-sized game of poker; if you watched long enough, people always showed their tells. Kids like this never took long to break.

Coach ordered them from the room and Andrew lead Kevin out.

“Hey, Kevin. Look! Another one that wants nothing to do with you, hm?” Andrew mocked, “Maybe it’s you”  
The glare Kevin shot him was cold and irritated, but it caused Andrews grin to widen as he stalked to the car, watching the perimeter in his peripheral.

“Will he even sign, I wonder,” Andrew put a finger to his lip in mock contemplation before he slid up on the hood of the car and pulled out a cigarette, ignoring Kevin’s irritated look as he lit the stick. Andrew cocked his brow and gave an exaggerated drag. He pointed the end at Kevin.

“That one there’s got a thing for you, Kevin. You sure know how to pick ‘em. Talent, maybe? Or just bad luck? Guess we’ll soon find out”

“He’ll sign. He’s inexperienced, incompetent, and unpolished. This is his only shot to ever make it. The only thing he has going for him is a raw, natural talent. Kind of like someone else I know,” Kevin crossed his arms and slid Andrew a pointed look.

Andrew blinked and pointed at his chest in mock surprise, his manic grin around the filter of his cigarette, “who? Me?”

Kevin scowled, “but _he_ has in spades what you lack in life. Hunger. Neil Josten is hungry and desperate and he will do what he has to to succeed in Exy. With my guidance, he’ll make it to Court. If you actually applied yourself then you’d make it there too”

“Hmm, what a shame,” Andrew hummed around the smoke pouring from his lips, “I just hate to be a disappointment”

“We both know you do”

Andrews grin turned feral in warning, “oh, Kevin. Watch yourself, would you? I’d really hate to have to prove you wrong. It’s dangerous”

Kevin scowled, but took the warning and kept his trap shut.

Andrews mind wandered, in and out of a haze and falsified endorphins and manic glee. Time passed, attention wandered, and thoughts scattered through perfect memories and triggers before the drugs reset to blissed-out haze. He tapped his shoes to the metal on the hood of the car, then slipped off to start moving his restless body.

Before long, the mystery in question came out the door, looking hopeless and desperate and ready to bolt. Andrew opened the backdoor or Hernandez’s SUV when Neil passed and gave him a knowing, taunting smile, “too good to play with us, too good to ride with us?” He already knew the answer.

Neil flicked him a cool look before his feet moved to a jog. Andrew watched him shrewdly until his legs sped up to a sprint and he fell out of sight.

_Run, run rabbit. Run away, runaway._


	2. Before the airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Abby, Abby. As sweet as she was naive. Doesn’t she know that lost causes are meant to stay lost?_
> 
>  
> 
> Such a misguided soul desperate to coddle and protect the already damaged and broken. Her and Coach made a good pair, equally as determined to set themselves up for suffering and disappointment as they gave, gave, gave and the others took, took, took.
> 
> Such is life. Take or be taken. Hurt or be hurt. Kill or be killed. Dog eat dog. That knife in your back is only there because you were stupid enough to turn it. 
> 
> Oh, Andrew had learnt that lesson the hard way long before he was old enough to learn anything else. 
> 
>  
> 
> Basically just the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh.  
> yeah.  
> already been posted but I only just figured out how to add chapters instead of part of a series....  
> now that I've found it, its so damn obvious.  
> le sigh
> 
> also, so sorry to anyone who bookmarked or Kudos-ed this when it was seperate. I had to delete the unattached version but I am not unappraciative of the... people liking it thing.
> 
> I have sorted out my shit now, so wont be a problem in future

_Abby, Abby. As sweet as she was naive. Doesn’t she know that lost causes are meant to stay lost?_

Such a misguided soul desperate to coddle and protect the already damaged and broken. Her and Coach made a good pair, equally as determined to set themselves up for suffering and disappointment as they gave, gave, gave and the others took, took, took.

Such is life. Take or be taken. Hurt or be hurt. Kill or be killed. Dog eat dog. That knife in your back is only there because you were stupid enough to turn it. 

Oh, Andrew had learnt that lesson the hard way long before he was old enough to learn anything else. 

Sometimes it made him furious. Sometimes it made him desperate. Sometimes he woke up still feeling hands and legs and bodies and weight pressing him down and crushing the breath from lungs and the life from his soul.

Sometimes there was nothing at all.

_Oh, but that high. As sweet as it was suffocating._

Right now, there was an itch. An ache. A gnawing need eating away at his head and buzzing in his skull. It wasn’t his drugs; it was the lack of, and it was making his skin vibrate with irritation. He already crashed and slept -a well timed trip to the court so Abby didn’t catch on- and now he was walking that thin line between sober coherency and violently ill.

He could push it out, and he would, but it was some kind of slow torture. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Maybe the irony would make him smile for real if he didn’t already have that wide feral grin splitting his face. Got to keep up appearances, after all, or Abby would flip her lid and attempt to stop his plans.

_Can’t have that now, can we?_

“You lot better behave. Nicky, you take him straight to David’s and don’t go pulling any crap, you hear? None,” Abby stood with her hands on her hips, lips drawn in disapproval as she stared at Nicky.

Nicky looked affronted, “how could you think that? I, for one, am excited to see some fresh blood on this team. Especially the rookie that’s got Kevin’s panties all in a twist” Nicky’s tone dropped as his smile turned devilish, “wasn’t bad on the eye, either, from what little I could see in those tapes”

Andrew continued smoking his cigarette and ignored the other Minyard as he snorted in derision, “he’s here to play Exy, not for you to creep all over”

“Who’s says he can’t do both?”

“Stop. Just stop. Seriously, Nicky, go flame somewhere else. Preferably no where near me” Aaron scowled, arms crossed on irritation.

Andrew tuned them out and concentrated on his cigarette, feeling the drag of smoke in his throat and lungs and trying to clear the rest of his head. Once he had some alcohol, it would be easier. Yet another good reason to be showing up at Coach’s place. He always had strong liquor on hand.

_Reliable. Predictable. Consistent._

“I mean it. Don’t test me on this. If you traumatise him before the semester even starts then I’ll bar you from the court until June,” Abby eyed them all sternly before her gaze rested on Andrew.

Kevin finally piped up from his laptop, where he was obsessively streaming the very sport that could cost him his life. He looked outraged. Dumbstruck. The face Andrew expected Kevin to wear if someone kicked his puppy. Or threatened to break his other hand, “what? No! You can’t do that!”

“I will. Don’t test me. I won’t let you scare him off,” She kept her gaze firmly on Andrew, “not whilst you’re under my roof”

The threat was there. Andrew almost wanted to take it. But he’d never hear the end of it and Kevin could be a pain in the ass when it came to Exy.

Andrew waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, “Oh, no Abby. We couldn’t have Kevin’s new star falling to pieces before the Foxes get their hands on him! What fun would that be?” 

She eyed him warily before deciding that was agreement and promptly left.

Andrew finished his cigarette, watching the ashes scatter before standing. He walked to the door and the others followed obediently.

They always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler but all credit goes to Nora for her characters and plot and quotes and ideas and.. yeah.  
> Shes amazing.


	3. Pick up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew waited, the sweltering heat irritating and humid. But he had long since learned to endure discomfort. The itch burned. Nothing compared to that. People headed from arrivals as they met with friends or significant others or headed straight to the baggage claim and out to the busy street.
> 
> As the people filed out and thinned with no sign of the ratty teen, Andrew almost wondered if Neil Josten had decided to bail. It wouldn’t surprise him. Nothing really did.
> 
> Then he caught sight of the dark -almost black- hair behind an old couple toddling along on their age weary legs before Neil came into full view, his gaze roaming around all the faces. Not just for a ride though, wasn’t that was curious? Guards, flight attendants, even the old couple who couldn’t possibly be here for Neil; they all got a quick assessing look as Neil stepped forward, grip on that familiar looking duffle bag protective.
> 
> Paranoia. It radiated off this kid like a stink. 
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrews POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already been posted, but now its a chapter! yay!  
> uh, yeah...  
> this happened

Andrew waited, the sweltering heat irritating and humid. But he had long since learned to endure discomfort. The itch burned. Nothing compared to that. People headed from arrivals as they met with friends or significant others or headed straight to the baggage claim and out to the busy street.

As the people filed out and thinned with no sign of the ratty teen, Andrew almost wondered if Neil Josten had decided to bail. It wouldn’t surprise him. Nothing really did.

Then he caught sight of the dark -almost black- hair behind an old couple toddling along on their age weary legs before Neil came into full view, his gaze roaming around all the faces. Not just for a ride though, wasn’t that was curious? Guards, flight attendants, even the old couple who couldn’t possibly be here for Neil; they all got a quick assessing look as Neil stepped forward, grip on that familiar looking duffle bag protective.

Paranoia. It radiated off this kid like a stink. 

But he walked with a sure step that promised to already have a planned exit strategy.

Andrew stared coolly. Assessing. Watching. It was almost interesting to see how people acted when they thought they were unobserved. _Almost._

Neil spotted him through the thinning crowd, not a single fault in his step at the sight of Andrew. Neil didn’t seemed too concerned with Andrew’s presence even after he’d laid Neil flat with his own borrowed racket. He’d hardly expect a reaction now. Especially if he assumed that Andrew was the Other Minyard.

In fact, he was counting on it.

_All part of the plan, you see. Gotta let the game play out._

A ratty, faded, barely-considered-blue t-shirt, at least two sizes too big swamped Neil’s lean, athletic frame. Pale jean shorts that had been put through the wash too many times, with fraying edges and permanent crease marks, looked ready to fall apart at the tug of a particular thread. Worn, scuffed, and dirty white sneakers completed the pathetically tragic look of this completely insignificant and unremarkable man.

Neil looked ready to disappear into a crowd at a moment notice. No-one would remember his face or pay him the slightest bit of attention.

Too bad for Neil, he’d already caught Andrew’s attention. 

_And the little rabbit was sorely going to regret that._

“Neil,” Andrew spoke, not wasting his breath with niceties, and pointed, “baggage claim”

“Just this,” Neil tapped the strap of worn duffle bag hanging off his shoulder.

Yet another piece of the puzzle. A picture was starting to form.

_But, oh, you’re so contradictory Neil Josten._

Andrew accepted that without comment and strode away without another word. The kid would follow. Or he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter and Andrew didn’t care. What he was far more interested in was getting a cigarette.

You could tell a lot about a person from the items they owned. Or didn’t own, for that matter. Andrew knew from his own experiences the pointlessness of owning lots of _stuff._

_Stuff_ needed to be moved. Packed. Unpacked. Put away. Repacked. Lugged. Carried. It didn’t take long for the discarded children of the foster care system to base their existence to a bag; the items of sentimentality were kept small and valueless, lest others take them to claim or sell. Not that Andrew had a sliver of sentimentality in his body. Such things were a waste of time. Everything was replaceable. Only the basics were necessary.

_But, but, but, curious wasn’t it? That a man who supposedly had a home and a family had such little **stuff?**_

Andrew had watched, noticed, and dismissed as uninteresting, all the Foxes in the tower lugging in car and trailer loads of possessions deemed as important for College survival. Comfort. _Hominess._ Even the fractured and broken had items to their name they carted on their travels. People who had been in one place long enough to actually have items.

Oh yes, the puzzle pieces of Neil Josten were starting to fall into place, but they didn’t match up to the picture on the packaged box he had handed them.

Andrew pushed through the crowd waiting at the sidewalk, slipping his cigarette out of his pocket and ignoring the honking and angry slurs of the taxi-driver who’d managed to stop barely a foot from him as he lit the end and dragged in the toxins to his lungs.

_But wouldn’t that just be amusing? How heartbroken Kevin would be if he was hit and proved to be useless to him._

Andrew’s car was parked six rows back in space number 16 across from a silver Lexus with Californian plates. The information was there in his head without conscious recall. If he actually tried, he could probably pull up the plate number of it and the two cars he was parked between (a white Toyota pickup and a red Subaru) Not that he would actually try. Identic memory had its usefulness, but also its nasty side-effects, for someone who had plenty of things better left forgotten.

Andrew hit the fob on his key to unlock the slick black vehicle brought with Aaron’s mother’s blood money. 

“Bag in the trunk” He said, before opening his door and sitting sideways to smoke.

He ignored Neil as Neil did as he was told, and he ignored Neil as he dragged the addictive toxins into his lungs. He smoked half of the stick before flicking the butt to the ground and swinging his legs. With twist of the key in the ignition the car roared to life and Andrew acknowledged to passenger beside him with a glance

“Neil Josten,” a ghost of a dangerous smile tugged at the corner of Andrew’s mouth as he rolled the name over his tongue, “here for the summer, hm?”

“Yes” was the only reply.

Andrew cranked up the air-con as high as it would go, ignoring the cool air causing his long-sleeved black shirt to stick to his slightly sweat-damp skin, and cranked the car into reverse, “that makes five of us, but word is you’re staying with Coach”

Andrew didn’t miss Neil’s reaction as that piece of information sank in, “Kevin stays on campus?”

“Where the court is, Kevin is. He can’t exist without it,” Andrew spoke derisively, not bothering to hide just how insufferable Kevin’s unhealthy dependence really was.

“I didn’t think it was the court Kevin was staying for” Neil said offhandedly, like a man who’d knew enough about a subject to make an observation.

Andrew didn’t answer.

He had his cash ready for the lady at the booth and stepped on the gas as soon as the bar lifted. Andrew ignored the horns and cut right into traffic. He caught Neil discreetly tightening his buckle and flicked him a sideways look.

“I hear you didn’t hit it off with Kevin last month”

“No one warned me he was going to be there,” Neil answered casually, staring out the passenger window, “maybe you’ll forgive me for not reacting well”

“Maybe I won’t. I don’t believe in forgiveness and it wasn’t me you offended. That’s the second time a recruit has told him to fuck off. If it was possible to dent that arrogance of his, his pride would have shreds through it. Instead, he’s losing faith in the intelligence of high school athletes”

“I’m sure Andrew had his reasons for refusing, same as me,” Vague. Closed off. Defensive. 

This was the point where the game was moving into place. They’d played it before, many times. The switch. People always assumed what they wanted to when it came to Andrew and his twin and assumption was a naïve and dangerous thing. It was more evidence of Andrew’s earlier theory; that Neil had done his research. Neil either assumed he was clever enough to tell him and the Other Minyard apart, or stupid enough to guess. 

Either way, it worked in Andrews favour.

“You said you weren’t good enough, but here you are anyway. You think a summer of practices will make that much of a difference?” 

“No,” Neil said, “it was just too hard to say no”

More questions, more probing, but this one wouldn’t give without force. Neil gave his answers in that relaxed and offhand way that made one appear open and uninteresting without actually giving anything away. Smooth. Unconcerned. With just enough bite to achieve an active personality. 

_This one will make an exceptional liar. Words spill from his lips like honey._

The only reaction Andrew believed was true was the first meeting when Neil had no warning of their visit. Now, Neil was prepared. Forewarned. He probably had a response for every question and a lie for every firm push.

Irrelevant. Andrew would get his answers. He always did. Nuts always cracked with enough force and Andrew was never slowed down by pesky things like moral lines and would push someone to their limits without hesitation if he deemed it necessary. It was even more important now that Kevin was playing with them.

Kevin had told Andrew that Riko wouldn’t let him go. Now that Kevin was set to play again it was even more dangerous. Deals could be made, people could be brought. Kevin was Riko’s pet, but he was no longer locked in his cage. Andrew knew first hand just how reluctant some could be to give up their toys. He couldn’t afford to let down his guard. 

Really though, he never could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers   
> This is all Noras, literally just changing perspective.  
> hopefully (fingers crossed) its convincing
> 
> The tone and writing style will change depending on whether or not Andrew is medicated in a chapter (andrew on drugs is so much fun to write)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Coach's Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coach's apartment complex came in to view, a towering structure left half abandoned because the Palmetto Foxes weren’t living up to their fan-attracting expectations. Or, maybe they were. Consequences of scraping the bottom of the barrel to form an Exy team more interested in tearing themselves apart than co-operating.
> 
> Predictable and uninteresting. A means to an end.
> 
> Either way, it made Coach's place easier to break into
> 
>  
> 
> Basically, the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my kids broke my laptop mouse and I've been writing this on a laptop so ancient it was around before built in wireless and smartphones existed.  
> (AKA when dinosaurs roamed the earth)
> 
> Then it magically fixed itself.  
> With magic.  
> whoohoo!
> 
> so... here it is...
> 
> enjoy,  
> or dont.  
> Y'know, whatever

Coach's apartment complex came in to view, a towering structure left half abandoned because the Palmetto Foxes weren’t living up to their fan-attracting expectations. Or, maybe they were. Consequences of scraping the bottom of the barrel to form an Exy team more interested in tearing themselves apart than co-operating.

Predictable and uninteresting. A means to an end.

Either way, it made Coach's place easier to break into. Fewer people meant fewer eyes to witness the times Andrew had scaled the fence. Not that he cared for repercussions, of course; he'd climb it anyway. But dealing with the local PD was such a bore and the restraint of metal cuffs around his wrists always managed to turn his vision red.

Most importantly -if anything could actually be considered important- Coach would rein in on their deal if Andrew got arrested. That wasn’t a viable outcome. 

_Such few things to live for, after all._

The trio stood on the sidewalk, waiting obediently, as Andrew parked on the curb. Andrew climbed out first and aimed the fob to unlock the trunk before joining the group, slipping into the other side of Kevin without sparing a glance to the other Minyard who was Andrew’s mirror image -minus the manic grin Andrew made crawl back up his face.

Neil retrieved his bag, and slung it on his shoulder before facing the four pairs of eyes all looking at him. There was a point here, where Neil might get curious of his and Aaron's identical attire. It might even make things interesting

Nicky -ever the enthusiast, and the only one containing an ounce of care for social graces- stepped forward to meet Neil at the curb, taking his hand eagerly, "Hey. Welcome to South Carolina. Flight go okay?"

"It was fine," Neil said.

Nicky had his uses. His insistent chatter, naivety, and delusional hopes of a _close and loving family_ were easily toned out and ignored. Nicky knew his place, no matter how much he complained about it to deaf ears. He was good at this game, they'd played it many times before.

"You already met them, right? Aaron, Andrew, Kevin? Coach was supposed to be here to let you in, but he had to head up to the stadium real quick…" 

Andrew listened with half an ear, observing, but that itch under his skin was dying to be scratched, the throbbing in his head growing from a dull tap to a steady thump, and twisting in his gut grew to a higher intensity that warned him if he didn’t take his next dose soon he'd be bent over and retching.

He ignored it all, locking it away. He was well trained at that; dismissing his body's warnings and demands -shutting it all down until the very moment his body snapped and refused to be ignored. Andrew itched for a cigarette to slip between the predators smile splitting his face, teeth sharp.

"This is where coach lives," Nicky gripped Neil's shoulder and guided him past towards the door, "he makes all the money, so he gets to live in a place like this while we poor people couch surf"

"You have a nice car for someone who thinks he's poor," Neil commented.

"That’s why we're poor" Nicky said dryly.

"Aaron's mother brought it for us with her life insurance money," Andrew explained, sticking in a barb he knew would hit his twin in the chest. "It's no surprise she had to die to be worth anything"

"Easy," Nicky spoke gently, but he was looking at Aaron when he said it as if expecting a response.

Predictably, the other Minyard stayed silent. Long used to Andrew’s barbs and callousness, Aaron stayed stubborn in his insufferable mourning and denial. They'd barely spoken a word to each other in the last three years, both content to ignore the others existence. A stalemate, of sorts. 

"Easy, easy," Andrew lifted his hands in a careless shrug, "why bother? It's a cruel world, right Neil? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t."

"It's not the world that’s cruel. It's the people in it" Neil replied coolly.

 _So cliché. How disappointing,_ "Oh, so true"

The elevator ride was silent, all crammed in to a reflective metal box. The 10 person capacity was highly ambitious of the buildings health and safety regulators. 10 Jostens, perhaps, with that slim, athletic build; 10 Coach-sized bodies would be hard-pressed to find room to breathe.

Anticipation was a feeling Andrew almost tolerated, if only because it meant something was coming that might be worth some attention. _Almost_ –because it was his next dose he was anxious for, and that was a double-edged blade he found himself sliced on regularly.

Coach's door was number 724, a curious number 13. _An omen, perhaps?_ Andrew didn’t believe in such things. The bad luck was all Coach's own doing. If he was going to continue courting disaster then that was hardly Andrew's concern.  
Interesting, though, that Coach was the one repeating the same thing over and over, expecting different results, and it was _Andrew's_ sanity constantly in question.  
Andrew only needed to learn a lesson once. 

These days, he preferred having none to learn at all.

"Here you go, Neil" Nicky spoke and gestured for Neil to precede him, as Aaron pulled his key out the lock. "Home sweet home, if anything involving coach can be called 'sweet'"

Neil didn’t respond, but neither did he move. His limbs locking up, body tense, frozen, and blocking the doorway.  
Ah, and there it was again, that deep-rooted fear Andrew had witnessed in Millport -Neil's limbs coiled like a spring and ready to bolt.

The anxiety was a cloud Andrew could almost choke on.

_Oh, there you are, little rabbit. Scared of broken ex-champions, scared of apartments? Issues, issues, and words that taste like lies._

Andrew stepped up alongside Neil, that twisted smile on his face as he stared Neil down with a challenge. _Run or stay. Run or stay. Stay or run, runaway._ Andrew didn’t have the patience for nervous breakdown.

Neil's cool brown gaze met his momentarily, before Neil finally recovered himself, crossed over the threshold and started down the hall with a determined set to his t-shirt swamped shoulders.

Andrew followed, Kevin quickly at his side. The 6'2" man had his own copious amounts of issues that included –but certainly not limited to- feeling anxious being out of someone's personal orbit for an extended period of time, unless he was on the Court. Or blackout drunk. It was a nuisance, but one that Andrew could ignore. It made it far easier to protect Kevin when Kevin was so hopelessly co-dependent and accustomed to doing as he was told.

Andrew had no sympathy. He didn’t even have the capacity to feel such a useless emotion, much less tolerate it. Life wasn’t fair; it had never been fair, it was never going to be fair. It was only a poker game. If you got dealt a shitty hand, then your only option was to place your bets, work an angle, and bluff your way out of it. Or fold.  
Black and white. Live or die. Expecting otherwise was ignorant and juvenile. 

They followed Neil to the first doorway opening up to the living room. The apartment was in the usual disarray common of a person who had too many thoughts and plans to have any set organization. Paperwork, coffee mugs and over-flowing ashtrays were scattered haphazardly around the room on any and all available surfaces. Coach seemed to thrive on stress and disorganization.

"What was all that about?" Nicky spoke in German, a handy form of communication to further keep their business theirs and everyone else out.

Neil froze halfway across the room as if the different language stunned him, body locked and tense.

_Kevin… apartments… languages… Neil Josten, your triggers are as unpredictable as they are mundane._

"Maybe he was savoring the moment," the other Minyard responded, not at all interested in being here but knowing there was no other option.

Neil seemed to get over whatever crippling anxiety was currently affecting his thought process and continued to the window

"No, that was pure fight or flight," Nicky didn’t take his eyes off the little rabbit, who currently had his hands to the glass as though he was debating jumping out of it. It would solve one problem, at least. "What the hell did you say to him, Andrew?"

Nicky didn’t bother looking to Andrew for a response, and plastered on his cheery grin when Neil turned, switching back to English, "How about a tour?"

People tended to underestimate Nicky, and Nicky often used that to his advantage. Nicky, oh, but he could bullshit with the best of them. Always pleasant, always cheery, and willing to play nice and play along for as long as necessary. 

_Consequences of hiding a life of sin in the house of the ‘righteous’, perhaps._

Nicky was his own kind of dangerous; the honey trap, so to speak. Nicky would be smiling and laughing whilst he slid a knife between your ribs. Ah, but he had those pesky things called morals. He was far too focused on insignificant details and far too desperate to be liked and accepted. If Nicky had a sharper mind and actually used it before speaking, he'd be very dangerous indeed. His ability to switch from cheerful to devious without a stutter was its own form of wickedness.  
A talent the twins themselves sorely lacked.  
Aaron was far too surly and blunt to bother with niceties, nor could he ever be a good enough actor to hide his disdain for 90% of the people around him.  
And Andrew exacted the results he needed with straight truths and not-so-subtle threats that he needn't bother with such messy tactics. Anyone who had any sense of self-preservation figured out quickly to steer clear of the 5" blond with the manic grin –all glaring teeth- and the cold, sharp eyes.

Andrew's interest in this exchange was quickly waning. He was far more interested in breaking into Coaches liqueur cabinet than watching Neil jump at the sight of his own shadow. 

Andrew stepped into the kitchen as the others continued down the hall, Kevin straight on his heels. Andrew dismissed the liquor cabinet after a moment's consideration, and looked instead to the cupboards lining the walls above the sink. The liquor cabinet was always kept locked, but it was a simple latch lock that took nothing more complicated than a blade slid down the seam -with a slight wriggle of the wrist- to break into. Why Coach even bothered to lock it anymore, Andrew suspected, was more out of pure stubbornness than an actual attempt to keep him out of it.

However, knowing that they were meant to be dropping off the newest addition to Coach's reluctant band of delinquents to his home away from home…

_If he did, in fact, even have a little burrow to call home._

No doubt Coach would know Andrew would take this opportunity to booze-raid. So, the cabinet would no doubt contain a barely full decoy bottle of some cheap and nasty whisky, and the real bottle of Andrew’s interest hidden somewhere else entirely.

Like one of the highest cupboards above the sink.

"Kevin, make yourself useful, would you? Probably the second row down" Andrew waved his hand in the general direction and stared blankly as Kevin blinked at him.

When Kevin took too long to move, Andrew let out a dramatic sigh, "Whisky, Kevin. Keep up. Up, up. Look. You know I don’t like waiting"

"One of these days…" Kevin muttered under his breath as he stretched up to search the cupboard Andrew requested.

"Oh, no! What?" Andrew bared his teeth, "you’ll stop relying on others and actually fight for yourself?"

Kevin's irritated glare told Andrew he'd hit his mark as Kevin kept his mouth shut, lifting to his toes to feel around in the cupboard. Kevin knew, as they all did, that arguing with Andrew was futile. Trying to argue with Andrew when he was in withdrawal and itching was asking to bleed. At least when he was drugged up he could find it amusing. In withdrawal it could quickly turn to violence as the need to tear and destroy clawed to the surface and burned like a rash under his skin, desperate to get out.

"How do you even know that it's up here? There's nothing but old cans of spaghetti and baked beans in this one," Kevin let out an irritated breath but moved on to the next one without hesitation.

Andrew started tapping his fingers to the sleeve of his shirt, the shape of the blades a comfort.

The next was empty too, but Kevin moved on, "he could have put it in the top one"

Andrew was silent a moment before he decided to answer, "Coach won’t stand on a chair to hide a bottle of whisky. Your heights are similar, you have the same reach. Ergo, second row down."

Kevin's fingers knocked a can that set of the familiar clink of a mostly full glass bottle. Kevin, ever the eager alcohol dependent, recognized that sound for what it was and collected the prize without further prompting.

"Johnny Walker. Enjoy" Kevin tossed the bottle without warning and Andrews arm stuck out immediately to catch it. Andrew wasn’t fucking amused and Kevin had that look in his eye like he was smug about something, all arrogance and satisfaction. Andrew had the urge to carve it from his face.

Andrew strode past Kevin and down the hall to the office the others were gathered in and held up the bottle of whisky, "success"

Neil's eyes narrowed as his cool brown gaze slid over the bottle in Andrews hand to the smile on his face. Most of the Foxes had some substance abuse or another on their sheet, past or present.

_Is this another trigger I’ve found? Can I break you without even trying? I’d almost be disappointed. Or not._

"Ready Neil?" Nicky grabbed Neil’s attention, "we should probably beat it before coach shows up"

"Why?" Neil pointed to the bottle, "is this a robbery in progress?"

"Maybe it is. Will you tell coach on us?" Andrew asked, almost entertained by the very notion, "so much for being a team player. I guess you really are a fox"

"No," Neil spoke, voice strong and sharp, "but I would ask him why you're not medicated"

No-one spoke, no-one moved, the tension in the air suddenly shifted as the words out of Neil's mouth penetrated. _Clever. Clever. Clever._

Their gazes locked; Neil staring at Andrew with an arrogant tilt to his head as if daring Andrew to deny it, and Andrew never backing down from a challenge, thinking back to what had exactly tipped Neil off. 

Nicky was the first other the others to stop his gaping and speak, in German "Am I crazy? Did I just see that happen?" 

"Don’t look at me" Aaron muttered in response.

"I'd prefer an answer in English," Neil spoke, but didn’t look at either of them. He only had eyes for Andrew.

Andrew dragged his left thumb over his lips to erase his smile, "that sounds like an accusation, but I didn’t lie to you"

"Omission is the easiest way to lie," Neil’s eyes narrowed, "you could have corrected me,"

"Could have, didn’t," Andrew shot back, "figure it out for yourself"

"I did," Neil said, staring Andrew down as if he had any hope of coming out of this on top. He tapped two finger to his temple in Andrews mocking salute, “Better luck next time”

“Oh,” Andrew said, because this one here had no idea what he was getting himself into. _No idea._ He’d soon find out, though. “Oh, you might actually turn out to be interesting. For a little while at least. I don’t think the amusement will last. It never does”

“Don’t mess with me”

“Or what?” 

Playing with the oblivious was one thing; playing with those who knew you were toying with them was just so much more _riveting._ The desperate struggle as they tried to outplay, out bet, and out bluff. But Andrew always took bigger risks, played for higher stakes, and could anticipate the cards. Andrew was the most dangerous kind of player –the one who had nothing to lose.

The little rabbit was in a den of wolves.

Andrew _–almost-_ couldn’t wait to hear this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nora Sakavic, all credit to her :)  
> All conversations and characters and situations are hers and I'm literally just trying to put in a different perspective. (plus a few fillers)
> 
> TL:DR -this is a ramble... you should probably skip it 
> 
> Also, in her asks, she mentioned as early as the first time in Columbia that Andrew admitted to Roland that Neil was attractive, but dismisses it as inconsequential because Neil is trouble. (I will make this conversation happen! I'm excited)  
> In my _headcanon_ (?am i even using that correctly? god, i dont know) Andrew thinks Neil is physically attractive pretty much from the get go, but is far more concerned with the possible threat Neil poses to even bother acknowloging it, in his head or otherwise.  
>  I think, similar to Neil's eventual attraction to Andrew (because of WHO he is, and not because of his gender or physical appearance -all though I'm sure that helps a lil bit) Andrew builds attraction to a person based on trust, intellect, and strength of character. Attractive physical appearance can be acknowloged, but easy dismissed without the other components to back it up.  
> which... is basically how I'll be writing this.
> 
> blah, blah, blah,
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks!


	5. Coach's Apartment 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rattle of the front door handle cut off whatever reply was about to spill out of Neil’s mouth. Andrew tore his challenging gaze away and plastered on his smile, bright and vacant.  
> Andrew turned to Kevin, and Kevin moved in front of him, gripping the half-full bottle from Andrew’s fingers and slipping it out of sight. Andrew was always the villain, after all, the easy mark for blame.
> 
> “Hi, coach” Andrew called over his shoulder as he heard footsteps enter the apartment. 
> 
>  
> 
> _17_
> 
>  
> 
> It would take 17 of Coaches steps for him to reach them.  
> 21 of Andrews own. Kevin took 18 or 19, depending on where his mood stood on the pathetic-to-arrogant scale at any point in the day
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late.  
> I'm tired.  
> Many apologies if there's any mistakes or repeated words or sentences, the words are starting to blurr.
> 
> so.. theres this..  
> :)

The rattle of the front door handle cut off whatever reply was about to spill out of Neil’s mouth. Andrew tore his challenging gaze away and plastered on his smile, bright and vacant.  
Andrew turned to Kevin, and Kevin moved in front of him, gripping the half-full bottle from Andrew’s fingers and slipping it out of sight. Andrew was always the villain, after all, the easy mark for blame.

“Hi, coach” Andrew called over his shoulder as he heard footsteps enter the apartment. 

_17_

It would take 17 of Coaches steps for him to reach them.  
21 of Andrews own. Kevin took 18 or 19, depending on where his mood stood on the pathetic-to-arrogant scale at any point in the day

The information, both useless and unnecessary, passed through Andrews mind to be dismissed as irrelevant. But never disposed of. No, that pointless little titbit would stick in his mind for as long as he continued existing, coming back when ever he stood here, in this place, along with all the other details that his mind filed away for his sub conscious to regurgitate at him uselessly like a never-ending fact sheet. 

Every article on the wall he’d skimmed, every book cover and blurb he’d bothered to look at, every face and name of the people in the photos pinned to the walls. With the withdrawal came clarity; perfect recollection. Dosed up, Andrew still took in the facts, still had them spilled back to him like some kind of stream, but the high made him easily distracted. The memory still there, but hard to hold onto, like cupping water in his hands. If he didn’t find it interesting in his high _euphoric_ state, then it was easily shut down. Of course, there wasn’t really much even worth the capacity of remembering.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate coming home and finding you in my apartment?” Coach demanded from out of sight, voice gruff.

Coach was all bark with no bite. Relatively harmless and unassuming on Andrews gage, but Andrew had always learnt to stay on guard regardless of how unthreatening a person seemed. Even trained pets turn on their owners, one can never truly trust anyone. What they had was more like a mutual alliance, he and Coach still wary of each other, but they had an understanding. A deal. And Coach had easy access to liquor, which is why Andrew broke into his apartment every other week.

That, and he _almost_ enjoyed keeping Coach on his toes.

Andrew held up his hands in an innocent gesture no one would be foolish enough to believe, his smile splitting his face, and stepped into the hallway. Aaron and Kevin followed, their shoes padding on the carpet behind him, close enough behind him that his body instantly went on alert regardless of knowing exactly who it was in his space. 

“I didn’t break anything this time,” Andrew spoke the truth. This time, the seal on the bottle was already opened.

“I’ll believe that after I check everything I own,” the door slammed further down and Coach approached, passing Andrew, Kevin, and the other Minyard to get to his office still containing Neil and Nicky.

It was interesting though, to wonder if Neil really would say something about Andrew being un-medicated. It would be an annoyance, but Coach had to be expecting it at some point; Coach would know better to be surprised, but he might just make himself a nuisance.

“I see you made it all right. I was pretty sure Nicky’s driving was going to get you killed,” Coach did a quick, assessing once over on the stray he’d brought to this town, this team, and directly in Kevin and Andrews path.

“I’ve survived worse” Neil responded, with barely a pause at the deflection.

_Ah, but we just discussed this, didn’t we Neil? Omission is the easiest way to lie. Okay for you, but not for anyone else, hm?_

“There is no surviving worse driving than that idiots,” Coach responded, “just open casket or closed,”

Nicky, predictably, was affronted by Coach’s accusation, regardless of the truth behind it. Coach, predictably, didn’t care, “What are you still doing here?”

“Leaving. Goodbye,” Andrew spoke with his dismissive and false cheer, “is Neil coming too?” Andrew was nowhere near through with this first meeting. Not yet. But his withdrawal was worsening and he couldn’t push it out for much longer. The itch was burning like a rash; his body heating, then quickly dropping in degrees; pores starting to clam with that cold, sick sweat.

“Going where?” the suspicion in Coaches tone was almost laughable. Dosed up, he would have laughed. As it was, his grin was all predatory teeth.

“Jeez coach, what kind of people do you think we are?” Nicky asked. As if they didn’t all know exactly what everyone thought of them.

_Monsters._

What an utterly _fascinating_ and unoriginal concept. Pure genius.

“We’re taking him to the court,” the other Minyard spoke, “we can give him a lift to Abby’s after. You didn’t need him, did you?”

“Just to give him this,” Coach tossed a set of familiar looking keys to Neil, who caught them instinctively. 

Neil stared down at them with an intent look on his face as Coach explained what they were for, all sign of defiance and challenge melted from his angled face and posture, like the simple cut metal could be worth something. His calloused and worn fingers clutched the metal in his palm possessively, “thank you. I will”

Andrew definitely didn’t fail to notice that. Just more little pieces.

“Blatant favouritism, Coach” Andrew spoke to break up this utterly _touching_ moment.

“If you ever went to the court of your own violation, maybe I’d give you a set too” Coach responded, “Since I don’t see that happening anytime this lifetime or next, you can shut up and share with Kevin”

“Oh, joy, joy. My excited face begins now,” Andrew pointed at the grin in question with and exaggerated point of his finger, “can we go?” not that Andrew ever needed anyone’s permission, but he was playing nice. For now.

“Get out,” Coach dismissed them.

Andrew led the way out the hallway and the apartment, catching Coach’s warning to Nicky, “don’t you dare traumatise him on his first day,” 

Oh, but poor Nicky, always given the responsibility of keeping Andrew and Aaron in line, as if Nicky actually had any hope or sway over the twins. Andrew did as he pleased, Aaron did as he was told, and Nicky followed behind dutifully trying to minimise collateral damage.

The hallway was empty, curtesy of an uninhabited floor, and Nicky followed not long after. Andrew gave a pointed look behind him to the door before looking back at Nicky, “Oh no, Nicky. I think you left something behind. Or has our newest Fox decided to hide away?”

Nicky shrugged, “nah, Coach sent me packing. He’s probably just giving Neil the usual spiel and making sure he has emergency numbers on speed-dial”

Andrew’s attention went from the slow background of conversation to the slight tremor he was starting to feel in his fingers. It started slow, like pins and needles-that numbness, tingling, cold- until it would eventually turn into a tremor Andrew could barely control. Then the nausea would kick from slow roll to full throttle. If Neil stopped delaying, Andrew would make it to the court and be able to crash on the bench whilst the others assessed their new sub and scrimmaged.

As it was, it was a near thing, and Andrew was getting impatient. Kevin’s foot was tapping incessantly, the slow _tap, tap, tap_ as his obsessive need to be back on the court drove him to his own frustration. Six months wasn’t long enough to break Kevin’s ingrained habits, not when they’d been enforced and conditioned since he was a child. A lifetime probably wouldn’t be long enough.

Andrew knew all about ingrained lessons. 

Kevin’s obsessive and deplorable habits were a barely tolerable inconvenience, but Andrew had known what he was signing up for when he decided to let Kevin stay and take him in. Kevin needed Exy to survive. Kevin had come to them a shell of a man, a broken body and a hopeless soul. The only thing that Kevin had ever lived for had been stolen from him, and now he was clawing it back inch by inch. Exy was why Kevin stayed. Exy was why Kevin had the slightest piece of backbone. Exy was the reason Kevin would keep their deal.

So, Andrew would give Kevin what he wanted. Exy. Court-time. Court access. Inhumane hours. Everything but the one thing Kevin was desperate for; Andrew.

It was Kevin’s own fault, of course. He was stupid enough to let those words out of his mouth;

_-“Riko always gets what he wants. And so do I”_

_Well! If that wasn’t a challenge then nothing was!_

Andrew took great pleasure now in telling Kevin ‘no’. A spoilt child prone to throwing a tantrum whenever he didn’t get what he wanted, Kevin had to get over his superiority complex when it came to Andrew. This was one fight he wasn’t going to _ever_ win. Kevin may have something Andrew wanted, but Andrew was nothing if not self-destructive. Andrew would burn himself to ground before allowing anyone to think they held power over him. The harder Kevin pushed, the harder Andrew dug in. No-one demanded anything from Andrew and got away unscathed.

_No. Fucking. One._

Neil’s exit of the apartment door caught Andrew’s attention, his deft fingers working another key onto his new collection. Andrew turned and walked to the elevator, the others following behind as Neil locked the door. They filed once again into the elevator, but this time the air was charged.

Andrew, Aaron, Kevin and Nicky all stood in a ring around the four walls, all eyes once again on Neil Josten. This time though, that tension from the apartment was zinging through the air like electricity, that undercurrent of danger and _anticipation_ was so palpable Andrew could almost taste it, like the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

The rabbit was tensed; from the set of his toned shoulders, clench of his angular jaw, to the spread of his worn-sneakered feet. The tension in the air hummed around Neil as he stood, posed, ready for a fight he surly had to know that he would lose.

_Hell, he’d be lucky if he even survived._

Andrew would tear him to shreds.

Andrew watched, waited, the forced smile slipping from his face as the floors counted down, gaze locked onto the dull brown of Neil’s stubborn stare, full of false bravado. 

_56 more seconds until ground floor_

Andrew liked this; this anticipation; this unpredictability. Not for him, of course. Andrew knew exactly how this would go. 

But that moment when someone finally realised they’d stepped into a cage with something violent, unchained, and dangerous. Deadly. 

This, Andrew liked.

Andrew stepped forward, staking his prey, and reached for the hand Neil had so protectively clasped his new set of keys. Predictably, Neil moved to protect his prize. Andrew tried again, and Neil had to step back to avoid his reach. A second too late, the rabbit seemed to realise he was cornered in a trap.

_That's the thing about rabbits; Their natural instinct was to bolt, even when they had nowhere to go_

Neil buried his keys deep into his pocket, his gaze wary and defiant as he visibly fought his fight or flight instincts, eyes still locked on the threat in front of him.

“How nice to meet you Neil,” Andrew drawled, “It will be a while before we see each other again.”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m that lucky” Neil shot back dryly

“Like this,” Andrew clarified, gesturing between their faces, “it will have to wait until June. Abby threatened to revoke our stadium rights if we broke you before then. Can’t have that, can we? Kevin would cry. No worries. We’ll wait until everyone’s here and Abby has too many other Foxes to worry about. Then we’ll throw you a welcome party you won’t forget.”

“You need to work on your persuasion techniques. They suck,”

_Such a smart mouth._

“I don’t need to be persuasive,” Andrew shot back, putting a hand to Neil’s firm chest as the elevator slowed to stop, “you’ll just learn to do what I say,”

The doors slid open behind Neil. As soon as they’d parted, Andrew gave Neil a small push. Neil tripped backward into the lobby, his body quickly trying to right itself as Andrew shoved past him, bumping him shoulder to hip, and heading for the door. Kevin’s heavy footfalls fell at Andrew’s heels and Aarons softer steps followed dutifully after.

Nicky stayed back, his, “ready for this?” reaching Andrew before he stepped through the door. 

He wouldn’t be ready. He couldn’t be. Andrew had gone through withdrawal to meet Neil, hoping to cross him off as a threat. But the warning flags just kept coming; the pieces weren’t adding up; the lines between here and there were too crooked and endless.

Too clever. Too stubborn. Too smooth talking. Too _interesting._

Too many things that made Neil Josten unpredictable and Andrew didn’t like surprises. Andrew liked to count all the cards before he placed his bets. This one had joker written all over him.

Andrew’s attention had been caught and Andrew was going to enjoy playing with this little rabbit to find out exactly what makes him tick.

In fact, he was _almost_ anticipating it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is Nora's etc etc.  
> y'know, the usual.


	6. The Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive to The Foxhole court was barely 10 minutes, the bright white walls in eye sore in its own right, never mind that when the sun hit it on the precisely right angle it then reflected the rays towards the oncoming traffic. 
> 
> Wouldn’t that just be a mild amusement though? Collisions caused by reflected sunstrike from the terrible aesthetic choices of Palmetto State. 
> 
>  
> 
> _What a metaphor that would be, hm?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrews POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...
> 
> I was like "I'm going to do this properly. I am going to make a chapter plan and write down everything I want to write about in each chapter and STICK TO IT"
> 
> and then... this happened...
> 
> Apparently I cant help myself but do long tangents.  
> this was supposed to go up until the Foxes arrived, but nope.  
> so...
> 
> here :)

The drive to The Foxhole court was barely 10 minutes, the bright white walls in eye sore in its own right, never mind that when the sun hit it on the precisely right angle it then reflected the rays towards the oncoming traffic. 

Wouldn’t that just be a mild amusement though? Collisions caused by reflected sunstrike from the terrible aesthetic choices of Palmetto State. 

_What a metaphor that would be, hm?_

They passed four parking lots before turning into a fifth, a few stray cars belonging to maintenance staff and summer school students scattered through the lot. 

All parks directly close to the stadium, however, were empty.

Neil was out of the car the moment it stopped moving, eagerness thrumming with each step. What Andrew had supposed was a desire to escape the close-proximity to the car, was changed to a yearning to be closer to the court. 

Neil’s threaded his slim, worn fingers through the chain-link fence, “let me in.”

Funny though, that fervor to go inside the cage, when all Andrew had ever wanted to do was escape them. Andrew had spent far too much time around Kevin not to recognise the signs of an unhealthy obsession. 

“Come on,” Nicky’s voice carried as he led Neil to the entrance between gate 24 and 1 where Andrew, Kevin, and the other Minyard were waiting.

“This is our entrance,” Nicky gestured to the door, ever friendly and accommodating, “code changes every couple of months, but Coach always lets us know when it does. Right now it’s 0508. May and August, get it? Coach and Abby’s birthday months. Told you they were boning. When’s your birthday?”

“It was in March,” Neil said.

“Oh, we missed it. But we recruited you in April so that should count as the world’s greatest present. What’d your girlfriend get you?” Nicky asked smoothly, always one to pry into other people’s lives. 

Andrew could already tell where this was going. 

Neil looked at Nicky, face scrunched in a frown, “what?”

Nicky leaned his shoulder against the wall, Neil in his full focus as a lazy smile curled his mouth, “come on, cute face like yours has to have a girlfriend. Unless you swing my way, of course, in which case please tell me now and save me the trouble of having to figure it out”

Neil stared at him, jaw slack, crease between his brows. Perplexed and slightly affronted, “what’s it matter?”

“I’m curious” Nicky answered, his shoulder raising in a slight casual shrug.

“He means nosey,” the other Minyard added.

“I don’t swing either way,” Neil finally answered. His gaze flicked from Nicky, around all of their faces, resting a moment on Kevin, before shooting straight back to the entrance door impatiently, “let’s go in,”

“Bullshit” Nicky shot out, eyes narrowed sceptically. Nicky should know better, really, but he had a rather tiresome trait of verbal diarrhoea.

“I don’t,” Neil’s irritation put a sharp edge to his voice, “are we going in or not?”

Kevin’s own impatience at this little line of enquiry finally won. He tapped in the code and pulled the door open, “go”

Neil needed no more encouragement. He walked down the hall, pace a half-step faster than average, Kevin quickly at their heels. Nicky followed and let the space of 3 bodies between them, head slightly tilted as he watched the back of them. Nicky caught Andrew’s look and gave him a sheepish shrug at being snapped, before they met up with the two strikers at the next door.

They entered the lounge, three chairs and two couches taking up most of the space in a semicircle around and entertainment centre.

Neil’s eyes roamed the room in a quick assessment before landing on the wall of photographs and clippings attached to the far wall. Kevin waited, his mouth drawn in a frown and arms crossed over his chest. His green eyes then flicked to Andrew, assessing his state and the extent of his withdrawal, as Nicky explained the people in the photographs to Neil, “…Renee’s a sweetheart. Be nice to her.”

“Or else?” Neil had caught the warning in Nicky’s tone. 

It was curious to wonder how the newest Fox would take to Renee. He was somewhat clever, observant, and on a perpetual edge. Would Neil Josten, like so many others, fall for Renee’s holier-than-thou façade? Or would he, like Andrew, see the sharpened blade Renee was beneath the pastel colours and cross necklace?

_Oh, but wait. Would Neil Josten even survive them long enough to find out?_

Nicky only smiled and shrugged.

“lets go” Kevin spoke, tone cool, and led the way out the lounge.

A hallway led from the lounge, past Coach and Abby’s offices, the medical room, to the locker rooms marked LADIES and GENTALMEN across from each other at the end of the hall. Kevin pushed open the door to the Men’s change room, giving Neil a quick glimpse at the abhorrent orange décor, then continued on with barely a pause to The Foyer; the room where press had interviews and took photographs of the players.

“Welcome to The Foyer,” Nicky spoke with an exaggerated, sweeping gesture of his arm, “that’s what we call it anyway. By ‘we’ I mean the clever smartass who proceeded us.”

Andrew straddled one of the obnoxiously orange benches and dug into his pocket for the small white container of pills that were the very bane of his tedious and pointless existence. The whisky switched hands, from Aaron to Kevin. 

_God forbid _Aaron hand it to Andrew himself. Oh, no. that would completely ruin the stalemate that had them cold-shouldered and blocked form each other’s acknowledgement. His brother was alive -Andrew would keep it that way- but fucked if he was going to let Aaron’s crime go unpunished.__

Kevin waited whilst Andrew shook a pill onto the bench in front of him, the slight tremor in his hand and raging urge to snatch at it like a starving child was barely controlled. _Addict._ He felt Kevin’s stare, but promptly ignored it. Kevin held the bottle in Andrew’s easy reach and traded him for the _medication,_ which he then slipped easily into the pocket of his running pants. 

__Pill in mouth, Andrew pulled the bottle to his lips and swallowed it down, resigned to the fact that this was it, this was his life._ _

He had nothing. 

He needed nothing. 

He wanted nothing. 

He _was_ nothing. 

Every day was one day closer to death. Every hour, every minute, every breath, was all a countdown until Andrews time was finally up. The tick of the clock, _tick tock, tick tock._ Every day just spent in either a drugged-out haze or a clawing, aching withdrawal, finding reasons to wake up in the morning and things to capture his limited interest in-between. 

__

Andrew wasn’t suicidal. He wasn’t particularly interested in living but neither was he afraid to die. Andrew had learnt long ago that life was often out of his control and not to expect anything from it.  
Not to want anything from it. 

It was a fool’s hope and a naïve perception and Andrew knew better than to fall for such things again. He controlled the things he could. He accepted the things he couldn’t. And he fought tooth and nail -feral claws and sharp, jagged teeth- to make sure no one dared try take that control away from him again. 

A wild beast like Andrew would not be caged, would not be leashed. 

Would not be domesticated or civilised or conform to the social norms and boundaries society’s naivety had set in place. 

Andrew didn’t live in that world. The world of black and white, right and wrong, lines and morals and social conventions. No, that world would never exist for Andrew –it never had. It was merely a mirage laid over the scarred and desolate lands of the fight for survival and existence that laid at the heart of it. 

_Some… Too many… Not enough…_

The swirling colours and the borderlines and… orange. 

_So much fucking orange._

_Too much._

Andrew stood, his thoughts gathering all at once and slipping past though the fog. He felt the cool glass bottle of whisky in his grip, but he also didn’t because his hands were numb and his fingers were tingling and all he could feel was everything and nothing and a warm fog in his brain. 

This was the high, of course. The medication. When he took his pills on time he slipped seamlessly from the drop of one pill to the soar of another, barely feeling the effects. 

When he let himself start his withdrawal though… the up hit him so much harder and could sometimes send him spinning. The sensation of losing your stomach over a particularly fast drop… _like falling…_ but only up. Up, up, up into to the clouds, where the cloud becomes part of your mind, trying to block your vision and you have to struggle to see through the candy-floss haze. 

His whole body was tingling now, every nerve ending set like a buzz and he could already feel the cloud trying to take over his mind and send him to a black out slumber. He moved forwards. 

Or backwards. 

Or sideways. 

Or through. 

Towards the lounge he knew existed, but somehow seemed like a distant memory. 

Sometimes that was hard; deciphering what was real or a memory. Andrew didn’t have much of an imagination, he didn’t need it, but he had plenty of memories and sometimes he could get lost in them; 

Or out of them; 

Or somewhere in-between; 

Drowning in a sea of crystal clear memories, twisted and turned and pushed and spun, not quite knowing which way was the way up to where reality was. 

He laughed. 

Loud. Harsh. That cruel smile splitting his cheeks so bad it ached. He’d have laugh lines for sure, from a man who never truly laughed. It wasn’t funny. Nothing was funny. But everything was funny and Andrew needed a sensation to hold onto, to pull himself back so he could stop drowning. 

The cool bottle he couldn’t really feel made its way to his lips and the strong, sharp, burning -but cold- liquid, spilled into his mouth and away down his throat. The burn spread, that fire in his belly moving like a flame and licking its way through his veins. 

The clouds caught fire, each of the particles heating and Andrew could feel his fingers again. Not all of them, but that they were there. They were there and on fire and fizzing from the fog. 

The couch was firm. But it was soft and Andrew had slept in much worse places. He laughed again, his own voice startling him like a cold slap. It was funny, because anywhere by himself was a good place to sleep. 

_And, oh, wasn’t that just so funny?_

But it wasn’t, not really. But he couldn’t stop smiling anyway… 

And then the cloud took over his eyes and smothered his vision until everything was black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer, its all Nora's  
> she's amazing.
> 
> Thnx for reading.


	7. High times and Abby's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the rough shove to his arm that had Andrew body moving in defensive action before his mind even woke; the strong strike of his arm lashing out at the offending touch, sending a shockwave of motion through his body, as his fight or flight responses sent that shot of adrenaline through his system. His eyes opened not a second later to see Kevin looming over him, arms crossed and a disapproving frown on his face.
> 
> Basically the series from Andrews POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!  
> I havent abandoned this, I swear!  
> I just got distracted with life and such, y'know.  
> Its spring over here, so been gardening and pretending to be a normal, functioning adult
> 
> but it's back,  
> yay :)
> 
> and its extra long (for me) so hopefully that kind of makes up for my unexpected hiatus...?
> 
> also, actually important...
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS AHEAD
> 
> Nothing explicit, but references to past abuse. All within Canon and such, but yeah, its there.
> 
> here you go..

It was the rough shove to his arm that had Andrew body moving in defensive action before his mind even woke; the strong strike of his arm lashing out at the offending touch, sending a shockwave of motion through his body, as his fight or flight responses sent that shot of adrenaline through his system. His eyes opened not a second later to see Kevin looming over him, arms crossed and a disapproving frown on his face.

“Oh! Did I miss it? Are you pleased? Is he everything you dear little Exy-dependant heart desired?” Andrew felt the tug on his cheeks of a muscle in much overuse.

Kevin’s frown deepened, “They’re changing. We’re heading in to watch”

“Oh, we are, are we?” Andrew sat up and looked Kevin in the eye, as he gestured to his face, “Joy, joy, so much better than uninterrupted sleep. You can tell I’m excited, yes?” 

Only an imbecile would miss the sharp edge to Andrew’s tone.

Kevin eyed him for a moment longer, before dropping his arms, “sleep, if you want. They’re just on the Court”

“Oh, but why would I want to miss this? You’ve already woken me, why waste it, hm?”

“You’ve met him now. Are you satisfied?” Impatience radiated off Kevin like a stink. Impatience and frustration. Tsk tsk, too bad. Kevin could use a little humbling.

Andrew clicked his tongue as he lounged back on the couch, legs crossed, head tilted to the side, “Oh, Kevin. Kevin, no. It’s been 6 months and you still don’t understand,” he leaned forward and rested his hands on his ankles, “I’m never satisfied, see? Satisfaction requires a ‘want’ in the first place and I simply have none of those. Pointless things. You should know better by now. Should I be disappointed? And I here I thought we were getting so close”

Kevin waited a moment before he let out a frustrated breath, “Should I wait or will you follow?” 

Oh, it was truly no fun when Kevin didn’t play his little games.

Andrew waved him off with an expansive gesture, his manic smile making his cheeks ache, “lead the way, B2”

Kevin bristled but didn’t bite as he led the way to inner court. The others were already there on the Court –moving blurs of orange and white- and Andrew found a stiff white bench to lay down on. 

It wasn’t long before his medication tugged him back under.

**

He woke again, but this time less violently and by his own accord. 

Kevin looked over at the sound of movement but otherwise ignored Andrew, his gaze going straight back to the drills being run on Court, the sound of the ball hitting the Plexiglas wall an occasional thud to the otherwise silent inner court.

Kevin’s shoulders were tense with aggravation, mouth set in a harsh disapproving line as he twirled his newly acquired Exy racket in his right hand. Andrew could see it; from the line of his posture to the quick flick of his wrist. Andrew recognised the signs he knew in himself. Kevin was itching.

Andrew laughed, watching Kevin’s frustration and obvious disappointment, his manic glee quickly bubbling to the surface.

“He needs to come to our night practices,” Kevin’s voice was a cool tone, the irritation cutting a harsh edge as he took his eyes off the court to look at Andrew.

“Uh, uh, uh. But Kevin, that is where you’re wrong,” Andrew pulled himself up to a sitting position, snagging a stray Exy ball off the ground and holding it up to the light as the fluorescents sent a startling shimmer of colour along its surface, “The puzzle is missing pieces and I don’t quite have a picture. It simply will not do!”

“He is never going to get where we need him to be if you don’t let me bring him along,” Kevin ground his teeth, “I have 5 weeks to whip him up to Class I standard and I won’t waste any more time.”

“Oh, no. So sad! I weep for you”

“Andrew-“ Kevin started, in a tone that sounded far too much like a demand.

“No” Andrews grin widened, but it was all sharp edges and warning teeth as his eyes flashed in challenge, “you hear me? No. Don’t bore me with your petty demands”

Kevin scowled, expression dark as he faced back towards the Court entrance.

Andrew hummed to himself, swigging his whisky in a full swallow, before lying back down and tossing the ball up into the air before catching it right before it hit him in the face.

Before long _-or was it long?-_ The court door banged closed and Andrew sat up from his vertical position, tossing the ball straight to Nicky as he came into view.

He didn’t bother watching if his dear cousin caught it and plucked the whisky bottle from the floor at his feet and twisted off the lid, “about time. Nicky, it’s so boring waiting for you”

“Were done now,” Nicky replied, his darker complexion flushed with physical exertion as he hooked his helmet over the end of his racket. He made to reach for the whisky but Andrew pulled it out of his reach and took another long swig.

“About time you stop that, don’t you think? Abby’s going to beat me senseless if she realises you’ve been drinking”

“Doesn’t sound like my problem,” Andrew spoke with a brilliant, mocking smile.

Pointlessly, Nicky looked to Aaron as if the other Minyard would dare intervene. Aaron, always predictable, shifted past and went on ahead without even a backwards glance to spare for poor, dear Nicky. Oh, the sorrow.

Nicky mimed blowing his brains out at Neil in a dramatic gesture before following.

Neil, the current focus of all Kevin’s aggravation, made a move to follow, and then hesitated. His eyes immediately went to Kevin and that’s where they stayed, that same intense look gracing his flushed face, the orange bandana on his head dark with sweat.

Kevin stared him down a moment before speaking, “this is going to be a very long season”

“I told you I wasn’t ready,”

“You also said you wouldn’t play with me, and yet here you are,”

Neil made no comment. Kevin got right in his face and tangled his fingers through the netting on Neil’s racket. When he tugged, the little rabbit held on tighter like a stubborn child with a favourite toy. Or a feral dog with a scrappy bone. 

“If you won’t play with me, you’ll play for me,” Kevin said, “you’re never going to get there on your own, so give your game to me”

“Where is ‘there’?” Neil asked, hesitation and reluctance like a giant stamp across his sweaty forehead.

Andrew watched the exchange with a bored attention, like the mind-numbing process of watching a television screen purely for the fact that it was there, but not at all interested in the crap that was playing, as this newest Fox fell into line like and obedient little pet. Oh, the joys. A pet for the pet. How terribly predictable.

Andrew’s attention quickly left the exchange for the far more interesting bottle between his fingers. He pulled it up to his lips, the bitter taste and fuzzy burn turning his mouth numb.

“Neil understands,” Kevin said, dropping his hand and sending Andrew a pointed look

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose! Since I have none to give, I will tell the others to respond appropriately,” Andrew pushed himself to his feet and swallowed more whisky on the way up.

His eyes turned to the puzzling problem standing in front of him, “Neil! Hello. We meet again.”

“We met earlier,” Neil spoke coolly, eyeing up Andrew like one might eye up a threat, “if this is another trick, just let it go”

Andrew grinned at him around the mouth of his bottle, amusement bubbling in his chest, “Don’t be so suspicious. You saw me take my medicine. If I hadn’t, I’d be keeled over somewhere by now puking from withdrawal. As it is, I might puke from all the fanaticism going around”

“He’s high,” Kevin explained, “he tells me when he’s sober, so I always know. How did you figure it out?”

Oh, but Andrew was high key anticipating this! 

“They’re twins, but they’re not the same,” the tricky little Fox shrugged, “One of them hates your obsession with Exy while the other couldn’t care less,”

He felt Kevin’s gaze but was far more interested in Neil. 

_Oh no, Neil. No, no, no. A little rabbit like you pays far too much close attention._

A second passed before Andrew started laughing, “He’s a comedian, too? And athlete, a comic and a student. How multitalented. What a grand addition to the Fox line. I can’t wait to see what else he can do. Perhaps we should throw him a talent show and find out? But later. Kevin, we’re going. I need food.”

Kevin handed Neil his racket back and the three of them headed to the locker room. The sound of running water alerted them that the others were in the shower. Neil barely looked around before he sat on the bench to wait.

Andrew felt his grin widen at that predictability.

“We’re not taking you to Abby’s like that,” Kevin spoke, “wash up.”

“I won’t shower with the team,” Neil spoke stubbornly, “I’ll wait, and if you don’t want to wait on me, just go on ahead. I’ll find my way there from here,”

“Nicky going to be a problem for you?” Andrew could feel his teeth, his grin turning feral with evident warning. 

Neil met his gaze head on, “It’s not about Nicky, it’s about my privacy,”

_Pieces, pieces. So many pieces falling, falling, falling_

Kevin snapped his fingers to gain Neil’s attention, “get over it. You can’t be shy if you’re going to be a star.”

Andrew leaned towards Kevin, hand to his mouth like he was sharing a secret, “He has to hide his ouches, Kevin. I broke into Coach’s cabinet and read his files. Bruises, you think, or scars? I think scars too. Can’t be bruises if his parents aren’t around to beat him, right?”

Neil’s calm façade dropped as a hidden fury burned behind his dull brown eyes, “what did you just say?”

Oh, but this was just far too delightful. So _easy_

“I don’t care,” Kevin ignored Neil in favour of Andrew.

Andrew ignored Kevin and gestured to Neil, “Showers aren’t communal here. Coach put in stalls when he built the stadium. The board wouldn’t pay for it –they didn’t see the point- so it came out of Coach’s own pocket. See for yourself if you don’t believe me,” his amusement grew as Neil’s eyes narrowed, “you don’t believe me, do you? I know you don’t. That’s probably for the best,”

Neil’s temper only flared, his worn fingers tightening into fists and his jaw sharpening as he clenched his teeth, “you had no right to read me file!”

Andrew laughed, delighted to gain such an intense reaction out of Neil’s carefully cool mask, “relax, relax, relax. I made that up. We were locked in Coach Arizona’s office to watch your game on TV. He said our secret meet-and-greet would be easy because you always shower alone last. Told Coach he still couldn’t find your parents and didn’t know if they’d be a problem because he’d never met them. Said they spent a lot of time commuting and none checking up on you,” Andrew’s feral, knowing grin split his cheeks at Neil’s glare, “but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Neil opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then seem to settle with scowling as he sucked a breath through clenched teeth, before he stood from the bench and stalked towards the showers. 

_Oooh, such a temper for such a skittish little creature_

Andrew followed, his shoes almost silent on the tiled bathroom floor with the well-practised ease that took almost no conscious thought.

Neil took in the toilet sink area with a sweeping look before edging round to the wall blocking off the views to the shower stalls. Andrew stopped behind him, far too close for comfort, but Andrew couldn’t let the little rabbit feel at ease now, could he? No, no, no, that just wouldn’t do at all. Far too easy to blend when life was all comfortable and safe. A persons true colours showed under stress and pressure, after all.

“Weird right?” Andrew spoke at Neil’s ear, already half anticipating the fast elbow that Neil threw back to wind him in reaction. Andrew laughed, - _oh, how telling,_ the fight in this one amusing- before stepping back and giving Neil that much desired space.

There was a certain type of person who hit first and asked questions later. A particular type of circumstances that required one to lash out on instinct at an intrusion of space. A different world one lived in where an invasion of personal boundary was worth violence.

Oh, yes. Andrew was beginning to figure out just what kind of little hole this rodent had crawled out of.

“Coach never explained it. Maybe he thought we’d need to grieve our disastrous losses in private. Only the best for his rising stars, right?” the taunting sarcasm tasted thick in Andrews throat.

“I didn’t think Wymack recruited rising stars,” Neil responded, pushing past Andrew to head back to the locker room.

“No,” Andrew agreed, pivoting on his feet before following, “The Foxes never will amount to anything. Try telling Dan that, though, and she’ll box your ears,” Andrew blinked, the whisky reflecting the harsh fluorescence and lighting the amber liquid like a precious metal catching the sun. Well, hard to say no to a call like that even if he usually detested such fallacious things. All well and good when it worked in his favour, though, isn’t that how it was for everybody? Following the ‘signs’ to lead you path you would have chosen anyway just to feel justified that it was some twisted desire of ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ or a ‘Godly design’? 

Oh, how fucking special, for life to set him on this _glorious_ path.

Funny how Steven found those Godly signs leading him straight into Andrew’s bedroom at night.

_Oh, but we must certainly digress_

Andrew scooped up the glittering bottle of decent whisky and headed for the door as his thoughts started to scatter, “Kevin, car”

Barely a step behind him, Kevin followed him through the doors and down the hallway, past the security doors of the college stadium and out to the shiny black car that stuck out like a corner street hooker in a Presbyterian church. 

Part of the draw, after all.

Andrew didn’t have ‘things’, but he did have this. This shiny black GS with it’s over-the-top horsepower, minuscule gas/mileage, toxic greenhouse gases, and exuberant extravagance. Andrew had walked into the lot and found the most expensive thing to eat up Tilda’s life insurance money. He didn’t care at all about her, after all, she was hardly a blip on Andrews radar; but the fact that he never let Aaron drive the vehicle that, by rights, should be owned by both of them (so sad, Aaron was far too busy mourning to pay attention to the lawyers) was a petty middle finger even he couldn’t help but indulge himself in.

He found a cigarette already between his fingers, his conscious mind having been distracted whilst his body moved on autopilot. A flash of fire, and it was lit. That bitter, pungent taste of the Camel sticks coiling through his lungs with weight and heat, bottle already grasped between his numb fingertips and heading towards his mouth.

“Abby’s not going to be happy about you drinking,” Kevin’s disapproving voice pulled him out of the thoughts that scattered like his cigarette smoke in the gentle breeze.

“Oh, no. Can’t have that now, can we?” Andrew mocked, his gaze resting on the bottle before he took another swig. He side-eyed Kevin, the smile trying to pry his mouth from the bottle lip, “just what would we do if dear Abigail banned us from her home, hm? Columbia is far too far to drive for all your precious practises. I wonder if you’d go through withdrawal. Nasty business, that” Andrew couldn’t even help the grin that split his lips, “I would know, after all”

“Spring can’t come soon enough” Kevin muttered as he looked back out towards his second home. Well, obsessions aside, at least he’d stopped his unnecessarily irritating nagging about Andrew’s alcohol consumption. 

_Oh, but what was that saying? Something about a pot and a kettle, right? Oh, how amusing, as if his **blessed** memory could ever forget such a thing. Whoops, must be all those **therapeutic** drugs. They always said drugs were bad, bad, bad._

_Funny, though, how it was those **hugs** that always proved most dangerous, hm? Perhaps that slogan needed a little creative rearranging._

Even more amusing was the notion that Andrew could ever possibly care.

The door opened, releasing the tall and smiling Nicky, the sullen doppelganger, and the mutated black rabbit with his sharp teeth and hidden claws, all stubborn spine and walking contradictions. He was a point of focus, a solid object through the haze. A threat. A puzzle. And _possibly_ even a challenge. 

Andrew wasn’t quite sure if he found that more irritating or intriguing. 

But, oh, he sure was ready to find out.

Nicky took the keys Andrew held out in his palm and shook them at Neil, “it’s your first day, so you get shotgun again. Enjoy it while you can. Kevin hates sitting in the back” 

_Oh, no. Not such a lowly second-class seat for the precious Exy royalty. How terribly beneath Kevin’s breeding._

Kevin could claim cramped legs all he liked, Andrew knew it was a matter of arrogance. Another ingrained habit from the birdcage he’d once called home. But oh, if Kevin insisted on bringing in this possible threat, then he could damn well give up his precious placement for Andrew’s inconvenience. Not exactly an even trade, but Kevin’s irritated scowl was more than satisfactory.

“I don’t have to sit up the front,” Neil argued, but the other seats had already been taken, with Andrew directly behind him.

Andrew didn’t miss the way Neil’s shoulders tensed at that discovery.

5 minutes later, and they reached the house of one Abigail Winfield, the ever accommodating nurse who had more patience than sense and should really cauterise that heart before she bled to death. They all exited the car and entered the house without bothering to knock. God forbid any of them even pretend to have any form of manners.

Garlic and tomato was a strong wafting scent leading them 9 steps to the kitchen (7 for Kevin and Nicky. Neil made it in 12, with his hesitant steps and insistence of having a wall at his back) Coach was grumbling as he dug through the silverware drawer and Abby fussed around the kitchen, stirring the pasta sauce on the stove. 

A thought, a feeling, a tug on his memory from that condensed and overwhelming smell. 

He was in a kitchen, but a different one, sitting carefully at a polished pine table, to not flare up that dull throbbing pain in his lower back. Music played, some soft lilting melody, as her smooth voice sung along to the tune in a teasing manner at the song she knew Andrew detested.  
The smell -that strong garlic and tomato, that combination of herbs- wafting from the stove in a kitchen filled with hideously sunshine yellow cupboards and a stainless steel sink.  
She was making pasta, Andrews favourite, and laughing as she added more chilli. A tug, a slight lift, to the corner of his mouth, before obnoxiously loud footsteps could be heard stomping down the stairs. Each step making Andrews chest squeeze a bit tighter, his body tensing involuntarily, and his fingers curl into fists on his thighs. Not for the first time, he’d wished for claws. For weapons. Some tool for this boiling pit of darkness that threatened to consume him. 

He couldn’t bleed it out. He’d tried. Tried and tried and tried until he was left in tatters. It didn’t work, and he wouldn’t _stop-_

The fumes of potent whisky assailed his senses, erasing the smell of Italian-style sauce, and the cool burn of alcohol filling his mouth and flooding down his throat. 

The sensory memory shattered, skittering away as his numb lips felt the pressure of the bottle and the drug-induced haze scattered his caustic thoughts.

“-it’s in the oven. Nicky, table. Aaron, help him. Andrew Joseph Minyard, that had better not be what I think it is” Abby’s voice cut through the fog. She made to swipe at the bottle but Andrew was already moving, laughing at her useless attempt to curb his habits. 

Andrew only did what he wanted, when he wanted. Expecting anything else was a harsh lesson in disappointment. Dear Abby’s mothering routine may have Kevin and Nicky calling to heel, but Andrew never had a mother, didn’t want one, and had no interest in playing house. 

Oh, no, he’d had far too much experience on exactly how _that_ went down.

He only tolerated the nurse for Kevin and Coach’s sake, after all.

“What was I supposed to do? Take it from him? No way in hell” Nicky voice followed him down the hall. Nicky wasn’t always stupid.

Andrew moved down the hall to the room he shared with Kevin, slipping his worn black duffle bag out from under the canvas stretcher he called his own, and digging a hole to place his 1/3 fill bottle. It would be safe there, he knew. Abby never dared enter his room. It was out of bounds, everyone knew that. 

Andrew didn’t make idle threats.

“You’d be Neil, then. I’m Abby. I’m the nurse for the team and temporary landlord to this lot. They’re not harassing you too much are they?” Abby’s tone followed soon after as he piled the clothes back over the glass. 

“No worries,” Andrew called, his tone as much threat as it was amusement, as he slid his bag back under the stretcher bed “He’ll actually take work to break, I think. Give me until August, maybe”

“If you dare give us a repeat of last year-“

“Then Bee will be here to pick up the pieces,” Andrew cut her off as he slid back through the doorway, splaying his empty hands at her in a insincere attempt to placate her, “she did so well with Matt, didn’t she? Neil won’t even be a blink on her radar. You did invite her over, didn’t you?”

“I invited her, but she declined. She thought it would make things awkward,” Abby ignored Andrew’s unsubtle prod to provoke further reaction. She was still so sore about last years’ trip to Columbia with Matt. Oh, how sad.

“Things aren’t anything but awkward when Andrew and Nicky are around” Coach pointed out.

Andrew looked straight to Neil, who was standing barely an inch away from the wall and staring around the room with practiced nonchalance and observation.

He felt that wicked grin splitting his face, “Bee’s a shrink. Used to work in the juvie system, but now she’s here. She deals with the really serious cases on campus: suicide watch, budding psychopaths, that sort of thing. That makes her our designated handler. You’ll meet her in August.”

“Do I have to?” Neil asked, the reluctance and distaste like a rolling cloud around his wary form.

_Oh, Neil, Neil, Neil. No surprise there, hm? Oh, what our resident busy Bee would make of a mess like you._

Andrew was _almost_ disappointed Bee declined on dinner. It was a meeting he’d be interested in observing.

“It’s mandatory once a semester for athletes,” Abby informed the kid currently trying to blend into the wall like some kind of chameleon. “The first time is a casual meet-and-greet so you get to know her and find out where her office is. The second is in spring…” 

Oh blah, blah, blah; Andrews interest was already fading, his focus in the plates of steaming food currently occupying the table. Abby waved them through to the dining table to be seated once she finished her nattering, everyone leaving the open space beside Kevin as he sat next to Wymack at the end of the table. Neil carefully chose the seat on the opposite side of the table, closest to the door.

Everyone served up, the conversation easing as lasagne was helped to, before Kevin -reliably pathetic as always- starting talking about his obsession with Coach as Nicky prattled on about unnecessary drabble.

Andrew watched Kevin and Coach, the strong aromas threatening to pull him back into the sensory memory. He wasn’t hungry, not anymore. Not now that the memory caused the smell to twist in his gut, the whisky and stomach acid a hot, sharp twist. 

His medication, it could twist things. Easy to breeze over some things, but could throw him deeper into others. The control he had, he needed, was tossed into that cloudy fog and twisted at the whim of his high. It made things interesting, sure. But it made others infinitely more dangerous.

That tune, he could hear it, playing in the memory and vibrating in his throat. That terrible song she favoured by that bubble man, and always insisted on singing. It was a tug on his chest and tasted like ash in his mouth, but it was better than the memory of strong garlic and tomato on harsh breath and dripping out of sweat slicked pores, the feeling of fingers in wrists and blades against skin and-

No, no, no. Much better to hum that silly little tune as he pushed the food around his plate in a focused trance. The pasta peeled like layers of flesh, that red sauce bleeding onto the plate and smearing the white porcelain in angry red smears. 

He’d eat later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its all Nora's  
> a literal dictation of direct quotes and scenes from her amazing books with my own person take on Andrew's POV
> 
> also, my apologies, but I'm not from the States so my seasons will probably get messed up.   
> My bad


	8. Day number 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was fits and starts of sleep that night, but that was a fairly regular occurrence. 
> 
> Sharing a room wasn’t a particularly pleasant thing, but it was something Andrew was used to. Something that had always been typical in his life. 
> 
> Halfway houses between foster homes, in a few over-crowded foster homes, and then in Juvie; sharing bedrooms and sleeping on worn, thin mattresses and uncomfortable spring stretchers -on the few occasions it was more than just a cheap mat on the floor- that was normal. The sounds of breathing, movement, snoring, low murmuring and the night wardens shuffling feet… that was all standard. Expected. Necessary. 
> 
> He’d long grown used to the sounds of others, and even with his tendency to wake at the smallest of sounds, he could dose through those that were consistent with a room full of sleeping bodies.
> 
>  
> 
> Basically its the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal.... my hope... is to try get one out every week.  
> I was aiming to write them longer, but I think I can get more done if I do it this way.  
> lets see if I can actually have some consistancy, eh?
> 
> This one is a filler so... yeah, hopefully it works
> 
> here you go

It was fits and starts of sleep that night, but that was a fairly regular occurrence. 

Sharing a room wasn’t a particularly pleasant thing, but it was something Andrew was used to. Something that had always been typical in his life. 

Halfway houses between foster homes, in a few over-crowded foster homes, and then in Juvie; sharing bedrooms and sleeping on worn, thin mattresses and uncomfortable spring stretchers -on the few occasions it was more than just a cheap mat on the floor- that was normal. The sounds of breathing, movement, snoring, low murmuring and the night wardens shuffling feet… that was all standard. Expected. Necessary. 

He’d long grown used to the sounds of others, and even with his tendency to wake at the smallest of sounds, he could dose through those that were consistent with a room full of sleeping bodies.

It was a silent room that had Andrew on high alert.

Silence meant he was alone. 

Silence meant there was no witnesses. 

Silence meant that the slightest noise –that soft swish of clothing, those sock padded footsteps, that sweep of the bottom of a wooden door against the carpet- was a potential threat.

Silence meant unsafe.

Even after 6 years, sleeping in a silent room without the safety of a lock and the press of his sheaths against his wrists, meant that there was no sleep.

No, sharing a room wasn’t particularly pleasant, but there were worse things.

Also, Kevin snored. 

It wasn’t the loud chainsaw of a man with sleep apnoea, but a low rumble that would increase slightly in volume every 5 or 6 breaths, before dropping back down, and seemed happened around 2am each night, made worse if he was rolled on his back -or had passed out drunk. 

Andrew may be used to such noises, but that still didn’t stop him from lying awake some nights and imagining the satisfaction of smothering Kevin with his own pillow.

After Kevin’s bitching the night before about his little project -and another failed attempt to convince Andrew of the necessity of bringing Neil along to their night practises- the temptation was pretty strong.

It would be _so easy._

Andrew might even be able to get in coffee and breakfast before anyone noticed, Kevin being known for sleeping in.

And it would solve so many of his current problems; no more Kevin trying to push him about Exy. No more concern with the walking contradiction who stared at Kevin just that little bit too much. _No more fucking Exy._

Maybe they’d even declare the medication a failure for curbing his _‘volatile nature’_ and _‘sociopathic tendencies’_ and just send him straight to the chair for the betterment and safety of society, making the world a better place and all.

Maybe it would be worth it.

But maybe that felt just a little too much like letting them win.

So instead of committing homicide, Andrew slipped on his black hoodie and made his way down the floral papered hallway to the kitchen. The coffee pot was already brewed and ready, the one upside of Abby being an early riser.

“Good morning, Andrew” Abby’s voice broke through the otherwise quiet of the morning as she stood there cooking what appeared to be eggs on the crappy old stove.

Andrew didn’t acknowledge her as he reached in the cupboard for a mug, and Abby didn’t bother to turn away from what she was cooking like she expected him to.

He tugged on his black sneakers, knocking the dirty white ones he knew to be his twin’s from their neat placement into a messy pile beside the door without a single iota of care. Coffee in hand, he slipped outside to the wooden porch, the blue/grey paint peeling from years of exposure to the hot sun and harsh weather of South Carolina.

It was two cigarettes and one mug of coffee before he finally made himself stop staring at the little white prescription bottle rattling in his hands and actually take the damn pill.

He just had to wait until Spring and he’d get re-assessed. The court psychiatrists could claim him still too unstable for sobriety, but Bee was confident that –along with her notes and assessments- he could finally be sober.

_10 months_ and he could be admitted into rehab, to detox the addiction they had forced him to become a slave to.

_43 weeks_ and he’d have to relearn how to function without experiencing explosive highs and crippling withdrawals.

_304 days_ and no longer would his thoughts scatter like smoke in the wind.

_7,296 hours_ and no longer would the falsified feral grin be ripping apart his face and making his cheeks ache.

_437,760 minutes_ and Andrew would see if Kevin managed to keep his promise; if Exy could really mean anything to him.

_26, 265, 600 seconds_ and Andrew would view the world with a clarity he hadn’t had in years.

_559, 558, 557, 556, 555…._

It was a positive, Bee would say, for Andrew to be looking ahead to his future. To be thinking about it. Contemplating it. Acknowledging that a future was possible. It could even be considered _hopeful._

Hope.

No, Andrew had learnt long ago that out of all the horrors set free from Pandora’s Box, ‘hope’ was truly the cruellest of all.

He knew better.

**

“Where are my shoes?”

“I don’t have your shoes”

“I put them there last night,”

“Well they’re not there now,”

“Wow, way to state the obvious. Your genius is astounding”

“And your sarcasm is losing its edge. Maybe change it up and try being pleasant for once, people would be shocked”

“Stop your petty bickering and get moving. We need to leave” Kevin’s impatient voice cut through Aaron and Nicky’s argument, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the concrete path leading up to the porch in front of Andrew, his stern frown and narrowed eyes clearly showing his displeasure.

“yeah, well I would” the other Minyard shot back, irritation heavy in his tone as he stood somewhere near the door, “except I seem to be missing my shoes”

“For the last time, Aaron. I didn’t take your damn shoes! Why would you even think that I would? Do these look like your shoes?” Nicky motioned down to his feet in an exaggerated gesture, right hand fisted on his hip, as he leaned on the dodgy looking porch railing, “are your feet size 12? No, didn’t think so,”

Andrew exhaled a plume of smoke into the heat of the afternoon, watching the way it curled out of his mouth as he sat on the ratty porch step with his back to the _absolutely riveting_ drama unfolding in the doorway, “oh, no. Such a tragedy!” Andrew grinned around the tip of the half-finished stick, “maybe the newest Fox decided he needed new shoes,” he laughed, a loud mocking sound, “he certainly looks homeless enough, yes?”

A second passed before Nicky made a dismissive noise, “I’m sure Neil didn’t steal your shoes.”

Andrew could feel his twin’s glare like an itch on the back of his neck. He grinned wider as he took another inhale.

“Y’know what, fuck it. I’m not going” Aaron snapped in an angry huff of breath, glare burning a hole in the back of Andrews head.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re going” Kevin spoke like it was final. Like the very idea was impossible to fathom and Aaron was nothing more than a mere child throwing a tantrum.

“Fuck you, we’re doing you a favour here” Aaron’s temper rose in his voice as he finally turned his attention to the green-eyed menace who could inspire hatred in almost anyone.

“Maybe if you were actually a competent backliner, but you need a lot more practice before you’ve earned your place as a class I player. You need all the help you can get,” Even standing on the path, Kevin was looking down on the other Minyard 

It was like a talent of Kevin’s. Andrew would _almost_ be impressed, if Kevin didn’t insist on directing that scathing disappointment and superiority his way, too. 

“Whoa, Kevin. Chill would you? Talk about rough,”

It would be interesting to see how the little rabbit would fare against Kevin’s biting comments and impossibly high expectations. Neil Josten had already shown to have a bit of a temper on him, which could prove amusing. And if he just so happens to go for Kevin with his racket, then Andrew is perfectly justified to cause some damage with his own.

_Oh, wouldn’t that just make things interesting_

“If he’s-“

“I refuse to-“

“We’re leaving” Andrew stood, tossing the cigarette butt to the side and strolling towards the car without a backwards glance.

Kevin caught up in two steps, falling at his place at Andrews heels. Nicky’s long footsteps followed and a grumbling Minyard fell into place, like the good little follower he was.

“Look! Aaron, isn’t that your shoe?” Nicky’s voice carried as Andrew stopped at the curb beside the GS’s back door. He started humming tunelessly 

“Yes” the sullen twin spoke through gritted teeth.

Andrew turned and leaned his side against the car, resting his arm on the burning black hood, fingers tapping in an uneven rhythm to his senseless humming on the reflective surface.

“The other one should be around here then. How’d they even get outside?” Nicky asked as he moved around to continue searching the bush beside the battered porch where the other was found.

“Oh, I have some idea” Aaron glanced Andrews way before remembering that he was meant to be ignoring Andrews existence, sulking in his stubborn misery and denial, then scowled down at his shoe before slipping it on to his sock-covered foot.

“Success!” Nicky called with a triumphant look on his face, the left sneaker held in his hand, “I am the master”

Aaron took the other shoe with a nod of thanks, before slipping it on and heading to the car. His gaze stayed on the ground, his jaw working, purposely not looking at any of them as he slipped into the car. 

Nicky frowned at Aarons closed door before looking to Andrew and shaking his head. 

Andrew stared at innocently, manic grin showing his teeth, “something to say, Nicky?”

Nicky looked away after a moment and climbed into the car.

The short ride to the court was quiet

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, Andrew totally hid Aaron’s shoes.
> 
> Ok, so, hear me out…
> 
> I kind of feel like medicated Andrew can be a bit petty.   
> He likes amusement, things that interest him, and is still pissed at his brother (understatement of the decade)  
> We see with Neil that Andrew can’t help himself at times to let feelings to the surface, that medication messing with his control, that Andrew does things for the sake of entertainment.  
> Also, they’re brothers. People with siblings tend to fuck with each other sometimes, especially if they are feeling pissy (even if their relationship is definitely not normal of conventional) and Andrew has A LOT of dark and buried feelings concerning his twin.
> 
> So, I’m not saying that Andrew took Aarons shoes and just threw them off the porch.  
> The situation was this;  
>  -Andrew put on his shoes, slightly knocking Aarons in the way of the door.  
>  -Instead of putting them back or walking around them, he walks through them, knocking them further into the path of the doorway.  
>  -he goes outside multiple times for cigarettes, and each time those shoes get knocked further and further outside until the end up in the bush.  
>  -cue amusement, because he knows that Aaron is going to be pissed.
> 
> I don’t think it’s a regular sort of thing, and I didn’t intend it as Andrew purposely going out of his way to mess with his brother (because i dont think he would actually care enouh to do that), but the situation presented itself and took minimal effort, so why not? 
> 
> (I also think he would do the same to Kevins shoes. Possibly Nicky's, too)
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, all charaters are Nora's and I'm merely just playing around with them.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!!  
> :)


	9. Day two (AKA the 'rape joke' scene)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They got changed out into their bright orange gear, to find one Neil Josten already situated on court, racket in hand, staring around the Plexiglas walls like it was made of precious water and he was a desperate man dying of thirst. Neil removed his obsessive staring as their movements flickered into his awareness and watched them approach, gaze wary and alert as he took the 4 of them in.
> 
> “We need you to play today. Will you?” Kevin spoke at Andrews elbow as he let Kevin propel him towards home goal.
> 
> Andrew’s laughter was a harsh sound from his throat as his drug-induced amusement bubbled from his chest.
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took WAY too long,  
> my apologies.
> 
> I rewrote this scene many, MANY times and none of them seemed to fit right until I finally settled with this one.  
> (I had no idea how hard this one would be)  
> Im satisfied, I think.  
> I hope you guys are too,
> 
>  
> 
> anywho,
> 
> on with it

They got changed out into their bright orange gear, to find one Neil Josten already situated on court, racket in hand, staring around the Plexiglas walls like it was made of precious water and he was a desperate man dying of thirst. Neil removed his obsessive staring as their movements flickered into his awareness and watched them approach, gaze wary and alert as he took the 4 of them in.

“We need you to play today. Will you?” Kevin spoke at Andrews elbow as he let Kevin propel him towards home goal.

Andrew’s laughter was a harsh sound from his throat as his drug-induced amusement bubbled from his chest.

Aaron and Nicky scattered balls down the first-forth line and Nicky, ever helpful, sent a few the little rabbits way.

Drills started, the drone of the game barely registering on his radar. But as the shiny white balls shot towards him, Andrew sent them back with an automatic reaction he had to anything being shot at high speed his way. 

But it was lazy. Unfocused. A necessary manoeuvre, but not an urgent one. Not one that took any care. Not one that generated any true interest to the buzzing cloud he was floating on.

The difficulty of drills increased, but it made no difference to Andrew. They were all firing on him but it was nothing in the scheme of things. Nothing important. There was no satisfaction to be gained from the loud thwack of the ball connecting with his racket and the dulled reverberations that vibrated its way from his wrists all the way to his shoulders. It was pins and needles to the clouded numb in his cold fingers and hands.

Mild amusement _–almost-_ was in deflecting every single one of Josten’s shots. Nicky and Aaron couldn’t score on him either, but that was expected. Inconsequential. Boring. It was a fact they all acknowledged and they fired with the certainty and acceptance of failure. 

Ah, but Neil though, he tried and cared, and he failed and he failed. Disappointment and determination were flashes on his angled face through the white helmet grating. 

Andrew paid a modicum of attention.

Kevin’s shots were fast furious from his least-dominant right hand. A clear face of cold concentration and immersion, fighting against his body’s natural instincts to twist right, to strike left, that uncompromising dedication and single-minded focus to re-write 19 years of brain wiring and ingrained muscle memory. 

It had been a curious whim of a disinterested and bored mind -Andrew capturing a very ghost of a thread of something he’d never admit to- when he decided to let Kevin stay and protect him from Riko Moriyama and all that entailed. When he’d promised to never let Kevin go back.

Oh yes, broken and bruised; a ruined shell at the hands of those classified _family,_ Kevin had known his spine was made of glass and would shatter at the barest knock, and he’d crawl back on his own broken hand and bloodied knees like the good little pet he’d been trained to be.

_“I can’t go back. Don’t let me go back. Please-“_  
“I don’t like that word. Find another one”  
“I’m desperate”  
“I can see that. What concern of that is mine?”  
“You can’t just-“  
“Oh, can’t I? Careful, Day, or I just might show you what it is I **can’t** do”  
“What is it that you want?”  
“Bingo, now he’s getting it. I’ll make you a deal” 

Kevin gained Andrew to keep him upright when all his back wanted to do was curl; Andrew gained a slightly more eventful and interesting college experience, another deal –another reason- to fill up the sky-high and sharped mouthed monotony of his numbered days. Defending another who couldn’t –wouldn’t- defend themselves.

It was this though; _this._ That gained Andrews attention enough for him to decide to play the insufferable and pointless game again.

Kevin may bend and crawl and defer like a trained pet. He may beg and expose his belly like a submissive little servant whilst he was beat by the hand that fed. He may be clutching on to a single thread with only a deal and Andrews refusal to let him break it keeping him from crumbling.

But, broken and ruined, Kevin refused to _die._

So ridiculously single-minded that a broken dominant playing hand couldn’t touch his incorrigible obsession for a game that had him shattered in the first place.

It was a small thing, and an insufferable reason, but it resonated to the very savage blackness residing in Andrew’s bones.

No, Kevin wasn’t shooting against Andrew, it was as clear as sunbeam bursting through the clouded sky. 

Kevin was shooting against himself.

A few of Kevin’s shot blurred past, demanding far too much effort than Andrew had any bother of currently giving.

Mild amusement, maybe, was Kevin’s exasperated expression, that grew stronger and stronger with each passing shot; at his pet-project’s amateur performance and at Andrew’s own apathy. 

Kevin sent them off for a water break, annoyance written in every line of his armoured demeanour, and kept firing on Andrew as if he could burn the frustration out with sheer force of racket and ball.

Andrew stopped deflecting. He wasn’t even there.

Idly, he wondered what was causing Kevin more irritation; the kid not living up to his inordinate expectations no matter how desperately he scrambled, or Andrew’s general indifference.

_What a culture shock it must be, to go from a nest consumed by fanatical obsession of impossible perfection, to a den of feral misfits more interested in tearing each other to pieces._

It wouldn’t be long until Kevin’s limited patience snapped. Andrew could already see the fraying.

The time was ticking, _tick tock, tick tock,_ more shots fired -17 in total- before Kevin finally stopped and sent an impatient look towards the court door where the others had disappeared.

“They’re taking too long” Kevin’s exasperation was a tangible cloud around him, buzzing like incessant bees, as he roughly tugged his helmet off his head and made to head towards the Plexiglas door. His right thumb pressing deeply into the tissue of his left hand captured Andrew’s eye.

“Oh, no,” Andrew held out his racket to block Kevin’s path, “no, no. Allow me, yes? Good”

Andrew dropped his racket to the court floor with a loud clatter and the resulting wince and glare from Kevin flashed a sharp grin across Andrew’s well-worn mouth

Oh, no, maybe they’d all drowned; maybe Neil had finally stepped off the edge of the anxiety cliff he seemed perpetually balancing on and he’d decided to bolt; maybe the kid decided to go postal and he’d find the other Minyard and his cousin with some broken limbs or their heads caved in. Such a sight would wreck havoc on poor Day’s sensitivities. He was hanging by a fragile thread as it was, one disaster away from a nervous breakdown.

No, much better for Andrew to go investigate. No matter why the hold up, one thing was true; the hold up in the locker room would be worth more attention than standing in the middle of an empty Exy court. Such a bore.

Andrew shoved the stadium door open, sweeping them with a wide-eyed look as they stood around the fountain, almost surprised not to find a more destructive scene. 

The twin looked surly, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Nicky. Nicky looked bemused as he leaned against the wall, his body turned towards Neil, but his attention on the resulting slam of the door handle thwacking the concrete wall. Neil seemed annoyed –hardly surprising- his posture defensive and frown tugging at his sharp features. 

His expression didn’t change as he looked over at Andrew.

There was a tension in the air. A discussion having been interrupted, that much was obvious. Not that Andrew cared in the slightest. The sooner they finished with Kevin’s little scrimmage, the sooner Andrew could get back to his stashed bottle of whisky.

“Kevin wants to know what’s taking you so long. Did you get lost?” 

“Nicky’s scheming to rape Neil,” Aaron spoke, his voice sharp with taunt as he scowled at the man in question, “There are a couple of flaws in his plan he needs to work out first, but he’ll get there sooner or later.”

Andrew stilled.

_ah, what a thing to say. What a dangerous and caustic thing._

“You’re such an asshole” Nicky shot at Aaron, his eyes narrowing as he frowned. He stepped away from the wall and started heading for the door, stepping closer into Andrew’s space.

“Wow, Nicky,” Andrew spoke, his tone light despite the edge he felt creeping under his skin, “you start early”

“Can you really blame me?” Nicky glanced back at Neil. 

That was his second mistake. 

Nicky’s attention was only off Andrew for a second, but that was all Andrew needed to lunge at him. Andrew caught Nicky’s jersey in one hand and threw him hard against the wall. Nicky let out a grunt as his back and skull made a loud thwack against the solid surface, his hands scrabbling for purchase but he didn’t try to push Andrew away. He didn’t _dare._

Could Andrew blame him? 

Oh, yes. Yes he very much could.

“Hey Nicky,” Andrew spoke in German, his voice a stage whisper, a razors edge to every careful word, “Don’t touch him, you understand?”

Nicky frowned, his body tensed, “You know I’d never hurt him. If he says yes-“

  _Uh, uh, uh. A pressured affirmation does not consent make_

“I said no”

“Jesus. You’re greedy,” Nicky’s eyes narrowed at him, “you already have Kevin. Why does it-“

Oh, and didn’t that just make something twist inside Andrew, something dark and vicious that burnt through his blissed-out haze. Something that felt a lot like insects crawling under his skin, firm hands bruising his flesh, and hot breath on his cheek.

_Oh, how silly. What a thing to say, Nicky. How dangerous, how terrible_

_How ignorant of you to think I won’t kill you_

That was his third mistake. And quite possibly his last.

Oh, how terribly hard Nicky was going to have to scramble to get himself out of this latest predicament his runaway mouth had gotten him into.

The blade, small and sharp, was pressed right between Nicky’s ribs. A little firmer, and he’d push through flesh and feel that pop as he punctured a lung. He felt it, that black rage, crawling under his skin, burning through that medicated cloud like it was made of nothing but combustible fumes. 

But, oh, Nicky has been warned before. 

The last time he’d casually mentioned violating someone -like it was some kind of _joke,_ like it was _nothing-_ Andrew had barely held back from breaking his jaw, the remaining bruise having lasted weeks.

Now, though? Now Nicky was proving too stupid to learn.

His first mistake had been when he’d run his mouth about getting Kevin too wasted to say ‘no’

It was a mindless comment from nervous and slurring mouth, unfiltered from a sporadic brain.

If it hadn’t been, Nicky would already be buried under the rubble of the current construction site across campus.

But he had been warned.

And Andrew didn’t believe in second chances.

It didn’t matter that Neil was a potential threat on Andrew’s radar. It didn’t matter that Nicky was his cousin. Blood meant nothing to Andrew but shared DNA and right now it was Nicky who was proving more dangerous.

It was satisfactory to see the fear on his face, those dark brown eyes blown wide. 

“Shh, Nicky, shh,” Andrew crooned, his teeth bared in a feral grin. It was a sick and masochistic verse, a well lived memory. It burned like acid on his tongue, that writhing thing inside of him to gaining traction, “Why the long face? It’s going to be okay,”

It would be so satisfying -so relieving- to let go of that twisted and consuming blackness and plunge in the blade. To rip and shred and destroy. Threats should be eliminated. This one was proving himself to be untrustworthy, a menace, who pushed and pushed and _pushed_ and didn’t understand a resounding _no._

Andrew didn’t have many lines. He had barely existing moral codes, and only hesitant truces and deals of mutual benefit. Everyone was always after something, of course. And having a grasp of someone’s wants always levelled the playing field. 

Or, tilted it in Andrew’s favour, as he was prevalent in his want for nothing.

But this was one thing he would not tolerate. Not ever.

_Never again._

“Hey,” a voice spoke to his left, “That’s enough”

“Quiet,” Nicky spoke in English, barely louder than a breath of air, “Quiet. It’s fine”

“Hey,” the voice spoke louder, slipping into Andrews focus. A pause, then, “are we playing or what? Kevin’s waiting”

_Oh, yes. Kevin, yes._

Kevin would surely be insufferable if they took another minute. Patience was hardly his strong suit, after all. A quality he may not even possess. 

Andrew looked to the owner of the voice,

Neil. 

He met Andrews gaze unflinchingly, face expressionless but there was a tension in his posture that belied his calm. Dull brown eyes that, in the fluoresce of the harsh and illuminating locker room lights, highlighted a curious ring around his irises that had previously been unnoticed. 

Andrew blinked, clearing his vision. It wasn’t a trick of the light, and a thought caught in his clouded head like high beam in the fog.

Funny, it never said in Neil Josten’s profile information that he required glasses or contacts.

_Curious, hm?_

“Oh, you’re right. Let’s go or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Andrew let go of Nicky without another thought or care, dismissing the need for bloodshed and the subsequent witnesses, and spun away, slipping the knife back beneath his band in a move so familiar it was as natural as his next breath. A claw born of his very body. One claw of many. 

When he made it back to the inner court, Kevin was waiting on the fox paw logo at the centre, his face twisted with impatience as he twirled the racket in irritation.

Andrew laughed at the sight as he jogged to the half-court line.

Kevin barely waited for the others to get in reach before dividing them up with an impatient flick of his fingers, “Aaron is with me. Nicky and Andrew get the child. Two-man team scrimmage with an empty away goal.”

“I’m not a child,” Neil spoke, a crease in his brow “You’re only a year older than I am”

Kevin didn’t even acknowledge said _child_ as Nicky spoke up, unruffled, “Shouldn’t Andrew be with you and Aaron? Then Neil can practice shooting on him”

Kevin looked at Nicky with that practised and perfected patronising look one would use for the ignorant and the dim, “If I thought he could make it to the goal, I would have set it up that way,”

Oh, yes. Andrew was counting the moments before Kevin’s utterly _pleasant_ personality reared its ugly head. He smiled with aching cheeks.

“Them’s fighting words,” Nicky said, used to Kevin’s superiority complex, and grinned at Neil, “Bring it, kid”

Even with only five of them, they set up as though they had two full teams: Neil and Kevin spaced out on the half-court line, Nicky and Aaron at far-forth. Andrew acted as dealer from his place in home goal and slammed the ball all the way to the other end of the court. 

Neil was off as soon as the ball made a crack against Andrew’s racket, bolting up the court before Aaron had a chance to close him out. He was mediocre at best, a complete amateur. A waste of time and space in Andrews own opinion, and certainly not worth all the trouble his mere presence dragged with him. Not worth the possible threat of Moriyama influence. But even in his drug addled mind, Andrew had to admit that the kid was startlingly fast.

_Ah, the tells you reveal with those bolting steps_

Aaron didn’t bother to follow the ball and Kevin didn’t bother to match his speed. 0.2 seconds after Neil scooped up the ball, Kevin was there, smashing their rackets together and sending Neil’s racket cluttering to the floor. 

Neil had no hope of catching up to Kevin and Nicky wasn’t skilled enough to stop him. 3 beats later Kevin shot at the goal, the ball whistling past Andrew as he leaned on his racket as an armrest. He looked over his shoulder as the goal lines lit up red, the bright angry lights capturing his attention for a moment against the bare and blinding white.

“You could at least try,” Kevin’s disapproving voice pulled his attention away from the wall.

Andrew tilted his head as he thought about it, chin resting on his knuckles and finger digging into his cheek. 

_Hm, no. No, no, that didn’t sound interesting at all. The misguided disappointed was far more amusing._

“I could, couldn’t I? Maybe next time!”

Nicky moved in his peripheral, his arm coming up and that white ball catching the light as it headed Andrew’s way. His arm came up to catch it in reflex.

Another set up, another go. Another crack as his giant racket slammed into the ball and sent it flying down the court. This time Aaron tried to slam Neil off his feet. Neil stumbled and ground his racket into the floor for balance, but didn’t topple. He could take a hit then, how predictable.

Kevin scored again and didn’t waste his voice to reprimand Andrew for his motionlessness. 

20 minutes in, and it seemed Andrews question was getting answered. Kevin pinned the current focus of his scathing disappointment to the wall, his face twisted into that irritated scowl as he growled something as he towered his 11inches over him. Neil reacted with a shove but Kevin was already moving.

The little Fox’s incompetence was winning out in this little game of disappointment.

40 minutes in, and Kevin had finally had enough. His motions were jerky, his strides long as his forceful footsteps echoed around the court. He swept his racket around in a swift and deadly motion, as if he could get the very air to obey him, and pointed it toward Nicky and the other Minyard, “get out. Both of you get out right now”

“Thank god,” Nicky muttered in exhalation and jogged to the door without the slightest hint of hesitation, the other one walked with an unhurried stride behind him.

Kevin waited until the door closed behind them before he moved. He gripped the front of Neil’s helmet by the grating and dragged him towards Andrew’s goal, the little runner almost tripping over his feet at the rough treatment.

_This, though? Oh, this might just turn out to be a little bit interesting after all._

_Maybe._

“Ball” Kevin spoke in his demanding tone. Andrew tossed it over, choosing not to be difficult as curiosity niggled through his medicated haze and he finally straightened in the goal, prepared to pay attention. 

At least for a little while.

Kevin shoved it into Neil’s chest until the kid finally grabbed hold of it. “You stay here and fire on Andrew until he’s tired. Maybe you’ll score once,” Kevin’s voice was scathing and harsh.

“Uh oh,” Andrew spoke with an amused laugh he could almost feel, “this won’t end well.”

The medication, the high, blocked out physical pain receptors as well as ‘subduing’ his _‘unnecessarily violent tendencies.’_ It caused a buzzing in his skin, an itch, a restless energy that completely warred with the mind numbing cloud that fogged up his brain. The result was a heightened stamina and endurance without a single care or desire to use it. Similar if one was to take several lines of Dust and then decide to pop some Valium. Uppers and downers, oh such a precarious tightrope to balance.

Oftentimes, it provided corpses.

And somehow this little pharmaceutical blend was legal. Recommended, even. For the _deranged_ and _unstable_ like him.

A true waste, really. It could almost be desired recreationally, if Andrew didn’t despise the tiny little pill so much. It was one thing to take something by choice, something else entirely when it was forced upon you.

_Ah, but wasn’t that just so true to the form of life. Got to keep with the theme, after all. Can’t change the record now, it’s already playing the same old tune, skipping on repeat_

Kevin pivoted without another word, the court door slamming behind him, the sound echoing around the court like a gunshot. Maybe it was a metaphor.

Neil’s posture straightened in his practice gear before he strode towards the north home corner to collect the bucket filled with Exy balls. The bucket set on first-forth, he strode back to the foul line to take his shot.

Andrew didn’t even begrudge the grin that ripped his cheeks apart.

With a long, hard sweep of his racket, Andrew smashed Neil’s first shot with the power and force of his focus and attention, his determination and his violence, that it hit a foot to the left and two up from the goal at the other end of the court.

Neil’s head turned, face impassive behind the grating of his helmet, as he looked over his shoulder.

He took a ball from the bucket and tried again.

Time blurred, twisted, and got lost between the strike of balls and Andrews deadly blows that sent them hurtling towards the away goal wall. 

This wasn’t about Exy. This wasn’t about practice. This sure as shit wasn’t about pleasing Kevin, who was currently glaring at them though the bolted court wall like he could twist them to his will.

No, this right here was a test. A challenge. A test of will and strength and determination and just sheer stubbornness. This was two wild creatures sizing each other up, testing for weaknesses. 

For cracks. 

Andrew didn’t lose these kind of tests. Oh, no.

Not anymore.

The little rabbit lasted longer than Andrew had predicted, but not by much. Andrew had weighed and calculated Neil’s speed and stubborn set to his jaw, along with his little tells and the puzzle pieces he’d gathered. The defiant spine in the face of a losing fight, the endurance of one who ran for a reason, for life, that desperate bolt for escape.

He’d known Neil would last longer than most freshmen athletes, especially of his pitiful experience. It was that raw and desperate way he held his racket like it was his lifeline, the way his hand had fisted in the chain-link fence surrounding the Court like he was starving, the way the tension only eased out of his lean and athletic form when he was covered in orange gear and closed in by Plexiglas.

It had only been 2 days, but Andrew could see the tell-tale signs of someone used to fighting tooth and nail, claw and fang, to hold on to what they considered theirs.

Oh, yes. Watching Neil Josten destroy himself against him was satisfactory in it predictability.

2 more shots -143 down- and the fool finally hit his wall. Neil’s grip on his lightweight racket slipped on his next swing as the shot headed Andrew’s way.

Andrew laughed, pleased, as Neil’s orange painted Exy stick slid across the court floor towards him.

Andrew hit the ball, aiming straight towards the undefended bright orange target standing only a few feet away. Neil moved, quickly, an automatic defensive action against Andrews’s assault, lifting his -no doubt- lead filled arms up in front of his face just before Andrews shot could smash him on the grating of his helmet. The ball rebounded off his forearm guards with a resulting crack, the impact causing Neil to stumble back. He uncovered his flushed face and Andrew could see the dirty look Neil shot him.

Luck, maybe. But Andrew suspected it was something more. Much like the elbow aimed toward his ribs on defensive instinct the day before when Andrew dared encroach his space

“Let’s go,” Andrew said, “tick tock. I won’t wait forever for you”  
.  
Neil stepped forward, his steps measured and slow. Sloppy. Not at all careful way he tried to carry himself. Andrew could almost _feel_ Neil’s arms trembling as he attempted to lift the racket high enough to swing. He lost his grip, and it cluttered to the floor.

_Oh, so stubborn. So foolish_  

Neil crouched and reached for his racket again, exhaustion and pain evident on his face and movements even through the grating of his helmet. His gloved fingers wrapped around the stick and picked it up.

Andrew observed, standing his racket up and propping his arms on the top of it, as the idiot tried to make another shot on goal.

He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. They both knew it. It was almost deplorable to witness –almost- that stubborn tenacity and grim determination in the face of utter hopelessness.

It felt just that little bit too familiar, too recognisable, for comfort.

The racket cluttered once more to the court floor, the ball rolling harmlessly away.

“Can you, or can’t you?” Andrew asked, watching the pathetic state of Neil as he crouched near his racket.

“I’m done,” his voice was heavy with defeat and exhaustion.

Andrew strode away from goal towards him, each step cool and controlled as he watched Neil struggle to even support his own weight, wavering on his crouched legs. He stopped barely a foot away, stepping his foot on Neil’s racket as he tried once again to wield it, and preventing him from lifting it from the floor.

But Neil Josten tried. Oh, he tried. It was pitiful. His attempt to push Andrew off was nothing but weak and futile.

“Get off my racket,” his voice was a low growl but Andrew knew he had no bite left in his teeth.

“Make me?” Andrew spread his arms in invitation. Taunting, testing, “try, anyway”

“Don’t tempt me” his voice was strained. And angry. Andrew wondered if he’d had the strength then Neil’s eyes might have been burning.

“Such fierce words from such a little creature,” Andrew spoke down at him, his teeth showing as his grin crawled across his face, “You’re not very bright. Typical of a jock.”

Oh, no, not very bright at all. Andrew was right here, right in reach. He was dangerous. He had blades that Neil had witnessed and a complete capacity to use them. He could do anything, and Neil wouldn’t even have the strength to defend himself. He was trapped in a cage with a wild beast and had left himself completely helpless and defenceless, ready to collapse against the floor in exhaustion, and all for sheer stubborn and pointless pride over a _sport._

Andrew wondered if Neil even knew what just happened here, what he’d just lost. This was a warning, a test, and Andrew had bested him. Beaten him. Left him in a heap on the floor, pathetic and vulnerable.

“Hypocrite,” Neil shot back. So defiant, even on his knees, completely defeated.

_Such a smart mouth_

This was a game he could never win. But the refusal to back down in the face of defeat was as abhorrent as it was intriguing.

Andrew gave him a mocking thumbs up and pushed past, knocking into him roughly. Hip hit shoulder, Neil’s wrecked body giving no resistance against the pull of gravity.

He didn’t look back as the court door slammed shut behind him.

Kevin stood beside the door, arms crossed over his chest as he stared through the Plexiglas wall separating him and the mess of his little pet project, already changed out. Andrew noticed the compression cuff back around his left hand and the careful way he held it against his arm.

“Shit, Andrew. You absolutely ruined him,” Nicky was slouched forward on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, “is he even still alive?”

Andrew sent him a mocking smile, “oh, Nicky. Why the concern? He’s still breathing”

“Yeah, but, c ‘mon. Look at him, he can’t even move” Nicky waved back at Neil sprawled on his back, head turned to watch them but otherwise unmoving.

Andrew laughed. It was a harsh, cold thing, “that’s hardly my concern, Nicky, and absolutely none of yours”

Nicky’s posture turned back to cautious as he brought his gaze back to Andrew. Andrew didn’t miss the way Nicky’s eyes flicked down to his arms warily. Andrew’s sharp smile didn’t seem to bring him any reassurance. How sad.

“If he’s stupid enough to blow himself out, then that’s his own problem. If he doesn’t know his limits, then he will learn the hard way” Kevin spoke detachedly, finally taking his focus away from the fool in question. He turned from the court and headed for the door leading them out of the stadium.

Nicky looked at Kevin’s back before looking back to Neil, then his gaze flicking to Andrew before settling on the other Minyard, “we’re not just going to leave him, right?”

Aaron stood from his seated position, backpack strap slung over his shoulder, “let him sleep here for all I care. He’ll probably prefer it to Coach’s couch” before brushing past Nicky and following behind Kevin.

Nicky frowned at his retreating back before looking back to Andrew, “are we at least going to help-“

Andrew took a step forward, racket slung casually over his shoulder with his right hand as he jabbed two fingers between Nicky’s ribs with his left, right where a sharp blade had pressed very, very recently, “Nicky, Nicky. Stop it, see? It’s a ‘no’. Don’t you forget, because I won’t”

Nicky froze as he frowned, “it’s not eve-“

“Nicky” Aaron called, his voice carrying around the stadium from where he stood half way to the door. His face was hard and cold, eyes moving over them and shoulders tensed, “come on”

Nicky let out a long-suffering sigh and moved away from Andrew’s manic smile and warning digits. 

Andrew let him.

Andrew followed after, heading straight for the locker and showers, passing Kevin on the phone to someone, probably Coach, with a warning of the current wrecked state of the newest troubled teen to join the Fox line-up.

_Oh, so tragic. Such a mess Neil has gotten himself into now._

And Andrew had only just gotten started.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all scenes and situations and dialogue are Nora's,  
> Im simply just switching perspective.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, all comments are loved and appreciated,
> 
> until next time :)


	10. Late night run-ins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the start of the third week of Kevin’s punishing and ruthless stripping of his newest striker and the rest of their tragic little group that saw a little twist in Andrew’s drugged haze of monotony.
> 
> Just a little bit.
> 
> Kevin was riding them all like a man out for blood, constantly frustrated with the many inadequacies that Andrew and their pack wore like a second skin.
> 
> It was amusing, _almost_ , Kevin’s stubborn determination and blind refusal to accept that you just can’t polish the faecal matter scraped of somebody’s shoe into a symmetrical diamond with any worth.
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> This one didn't take so long to write up, thankfully.
> 
> Here :)

It was the start of the third week of Kevin’s punishing and ruthless stripping of his newest striker and the rest of their tragic little group that saw a little twist in Andrew’s drugged haze of monotony.

Just a little bit.

Kevin was riding them all like a man out for blood, constantly frustrated with the many inadequacies that Andrew and their pack wore like a second skin.

It was amusing, _almost_ , Kevin’s stubborn determination and blind refusal to accept that you just can’t polish the faecal matter scraped of somebody’s shoe into a symmetrical diamond with any worth.

Nicky complained about the constant training, grumbling and whining whenever an ear was free, but it more-so seemed to be his desperate way to fill the silence. Training was a way for him to fill up his days and not focus on the life he had waiting for him back in Germany _-a home-_ to run himself ragged so he could pass out into sleep.

The other Minyard was quiet. And surly. More than was the usual abrasiveness of his nature and Nicky was bearing the brunt of it with his incessant chatter. Aaron clutched his own emotions like barbed shield and lashed out with no regard of the consequences, or how those thorns were stabbing into Nicky’s cracks only held together with cellotape, false cheer, and a futile hope that rivalled Coach’s own deluded resolve to fix things that had been shattered beyond repair.

_Hope. Oh, that was a sick joke that had been ripped out years ago._

There was a stubborn drive when the doppelganger joined them on the court, resolved to practice and play and train and lift and better himself. He may have no real care for Exy –but far more than Andrew, if he could even exist on such a scale- but Aaron worked hard at any and all things he applied himself to. He wanted to achieve. He wanted to be proud. He wanted to throw a big ‘fuck you’ to the life he’d been given and actually become something other than the bottom feeder he’d been born to be. He wanted to be normal so bad, his pride stung to be associated with the train-wreck of losers that was The Palmetto Foxes Class I Exy team.

But it was the way his hands almost subconsciously trailed to his pockets, the way he stared at his phone like it held the secrets of the world, that careful conscious way he made sure that his phone was never far from his person and never checked the buzz of messages in a proximity of prying eyes, that told Andrew that his dear twin was running from more than just the gutter they’d been born into.

It was the long late night showers that left him skittish and irritable, avoiding eye contact and deflecting questions with scalding retorts and defensive postures. 

Nicky joked that Aaron needed to get laid so he’d stop needing to whack off in the shower every night.

Aaron sent back a scathing retort and clenched his phone through his pocket, eyes flickering to Andrew in a tell so loud it was like it had screamed through the entire room

He thought Andrew hadn’t noticed his obvious distraction. Really, he should know better by now.

Andrew noticed everything.

There was nothing he could do about it now, of course; the suspected object of Aaron’s distraction wouldn’t be moving back into campus for another 62 days. Waiting until the semester was underway in another 24, with class schedules set, patterns formed, and more bodies to occupy space and campus security attention was a wiser move he’d started to consider. Timing was key with these things, and Andrew had patience for himself in spades that he sorely lacked in relation to others.

With another deal which could be jeopardised if he wasn’t careful, he’d simply have to wait until he could resolve this little issue once and for all.

The other Minyard had a promise to keep, and Andrew would make sure he kept it.

**

Every night was the same. The broken sleep as his restless charge dragged himself and Andrew out of bed at midnight and shot at the goal with his least dominant right hand repetitively in his neurotic strive for perfection. 

Andrew didn’t care. Half the time he was already awake when Kevin’s alarm sounded in the darkness of their shared room.

The buzz of his high was merely a low thrum under his skin, the hooks still in but not dragging him under, a smoother ride of a come-down but not yet a heavy withdrawal. 

It had only taken two weeks to train his body to expect withdrawal through the night, through sleep. After suffering through vivid dreams that warped his scattered thoughts and twisted his memories, weaving them and mixing them until they churned like a whirl pool and Andrew lost sight of which direction was up, he flat-out refused to take that little white pill at night.

Being lost in the clouds -thoughts skittering- during the day was one thing, but letting that heavy fog and his own dangerous subconscious run wild together in sleep was something he refused to endure. After denying his body any solid amount of sleep for 83 hours and 27 minutes, shrink number 4 finally conceded that Andrew was not required to take his medication during the night. 

Alas, that was the only sign Dr Martin Ames ever gave of actually containing any semblance of intelligence. The rest of the wasted time and money poured into the MD he’d proudly placed front and centre on his slime coloured office wall would have been better invested in visiting his own psychiatric professional to address his god-complex and disturbing fascination with the sound of his own voice.

It was the footsteps that were the first thing to capture his attention on that, oh technically Wednesday morning, as he lay along the 10th step up of the first stairwell. Kevin was practicing, the low thud of a Exy ball against the goal wall the only break in the heavy silence through the empty stadium other than Andrew’s own even breaths.

Andrew pulled himself upright, pinpointing the direction of the noise of careful and curious steps to the stadium entrance. He leaned forwards, forearms crossed over on his knees as the familiar stature and figure of Neil Josten stepped out of the shadow of the tunnel. 

Andrew eyed him, his almost black hair sticking up in all directions, chest rising and falling at a slightly-quicker-than-normal rate, intense focus on Kevin through the Plexiglass court wall. Andrew didn’t even think it was possible, but the clothes he wore now made Neil look even more washed out and faded than usual. The faded grey sweatpants hung loose on slender hips and the used-to-be-white shirt swamped him like a kid playing dress up in a homeless man’s rejected clothes.

Andrew watched him as he stepped forwards.

Neil stared at Kevin, watching him with that cool intensity that put Andrew on edge.

Andrew stared at Neil, wondering exactly why he was here at an hour only Kevin would think to call reasonable.

A moment passed. Two. There were breaths and beats and spaces in between filled with nothing but itching questions that needed definitive answers.

Asking, though, was a pointless exercise. Neil was revealing himself to be almost as proficient a liar as Andrew himself. Andrew wouldn’t waste the breath between them to hear it filled with careful words from a deceitful mouth.

“Won’t you play with him?” Neil’s voice carried through the empty stadium, a low thrum.

“No,” Andrew answered, curiosity tugging at him as to whether Neil had felt his stare or simply deduced his presence from the obvious fact that Kevin wouldn’t be here alone.

A beat of silence. Then another, as if Neil was actually waiting for something. Then, “I think he’d benefit more if you did,”

“And?” Andrew’s interest in this exchange was already waning. He would rather sit in silence than listen to the words of another fanatic. One was already one too many.

Neil turned slowly, finally dragging his eyes away from Kevin and his compulsive need for perfection, his quick brown eyes looking black in the light as his gaze swiftly sought out Andrew’s solid and unimpressed presence.

Neil had that perceptive look on his face; a tilt to the head, slight crease between the brows, and sharp narrowed eyes that tried to take in everything at once; systematically asking questions and deducing answers.

His stare, quick to take in Andrews mostly sober and not at all smiling face, darted straight down to the black bands Andrew wore like a second skin.

Andrew’s fingers, agile and capable, slipped inside the band of his left arm and tugged a small, thin blade free. Neil’s eyes narrowed as it glinted in the harsh florescence before Andrew slipped it back into its place against his pulse.

“Is that your slow attempt at suicide or do you actually have sheathes built into those?” Neil’s tone was coloured unimpressed.

As one accustomed to fear, both the sense of being the one who is and the one to be feared, it was curious to wonder if this was a merely show of false bravado or if the little rabbit truly believed he had no reason for concern.

Only a few more weeks and he would discover the answer to that question. It would be one of many.

“Yes,”

“That’s not the one you tried to cut Nicky with. How many knives do you carry?”

Curious, wasn’t it, those quick eyes taking in information and only a 2 second glimpse was enough to distinguish one blade from another, even at a 5 foot distance that separated them.

But, Andrew was already well aware that there was something dubious in the contradicting layers of Neil Josten, something hidden with a possessive paranoia, like a door bolted with far too many locks that gave away that something of value lay inside. 

Andrew was good at breaking locks.

“Enough,” Andrew replied, tone cool. It was unwise, of course, to let a threat know just how many weapons they had to dismantle least they try to gain the upper hand.

“What happens when a referee catches you with a weapon on court?” Neil asked, “I think that’s a little more serious than a red card. You’d probably get arrested, and they might suspend the entire team until they think they can trust us again. Then what?”

“I’d grieve forever,” Andrew deadpanned. Deplorable, really, an oh so telling –Kevin would be pleased with his Exy-consumed pet- that his main concern with weapons is how it could affect a _game_ as opposed to the obvious threat of rendering someone bleeding out on the floor.

“Why do you hate this game so much?”

Andrew sighed, long and heavy as his interest in this exchange bottomed out at zero, “I don’t care enough about Exy to hate it. It’s just slightly less boring than living is, so I put up with it for now”

“I don’t understand” confusion creased his brow, head tilted.

“That’s not my problem”

“Isn’t it fun?” Neil asked. 

Oh, the similarities could almost make Andrew nauseous. No wonder Kevin was so focused on this shifty little runaway. “Someone asked me that same thing 2 years ago. Should I tell you what I told him? I said no. Something as pointless as this game is can never be fun.” 

“Pointless,” Neil echoed, disbelief colouring his tone as if Andrew had just told him the sky was green and the clouds tasted like candy. “But you have real talent.”

“Flattery is uninteresting and gets you nowhere.”

“I’m just stating facts. You’re selling yourself short. You could be something if only you’d try.”

Oh, he was very much bored of every variation of those pointless words.

Andrews smile was small and cold. “You be something. Kevin says you’ll be a champion. Four years and you’ll go pro. Five years and you’ll be court. He promised coach. He promised the school board. He argued until they signed off on you.”

“He –what?” Neil stared at him, brown eyes blown in shock and disbelief, body frozen and recoiled like Andrews words were more a threat than his blades had ever been.

“Then Kevin finally got the ok to sign you and you hit the ground running,” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward slightly more, “curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could ‘be something’ wouldn’t want any of it. Why is that?”

Neil’s expression quickly shattered, his cool and stony calm settling back over his features with a stubborn set of his jaw, eyes narrowed in accusation “you’re lying. Kevin hates me.”

“Or you hate him,” Andrew added, head tilting slightly to the side as he studied the man in front of him “I can’t decide. You’re loose ends aren’t adding up”

“I’m not a math problem” Neil shot back.

“But I’ll still solve you,” Andrew assured, the promise easily rolling off his tongue with the certainty of a threat.

Neil turned away without another word, focus going straight back to Kevin and the court as Kevin gathered up the balls after finishing with his compulsive practice. When Kevin moved towards the door, Andrew stood, the soft falls of his shoes on the steps as he narrowed the distance between them.

“You are a conundrum,” Andrew pulled his eyes from the side of Neil’s head.

“Thank you,” Neil replied drily, watching Kevin’s movements towards the door.

“No, thank you,” Andrew shot back as he slipped past, putting himself between Neil and Kevin, “I need a new toy to play with.”

“I’m not a toy,” Neil spoke with that cool lilt that revealed a hint of that temper residing not far from the surface of his façade.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Kevin had his helmet off as soon as the court door closed behind him. He didn’t even spare Andrew a glance as he spotted his little prodigy behind him, “why are you here?”

“I wanted to practice” Neil’s voice betrayed nothing of the earlier tension of Andrew’s revelation.

“As if it would help you any” Kevin’s voice was blunt and cutting, a dulled blade made to sting but no incapacitate. Andrew preferred to slice at vital arteries.

The low exhalation was an echo in Andrews ears that sounded suspiciously like relief from the man made up of too many contradictions it was amazing he managed to take up any space at all.

The bucket filled with balls was set at Kevin’s feet as he removed his grip from the racket and helmet, pieces of armour Kevin wore like an extension of his own skeleton, onto the home bench to undo his gloves and arm guards like peeling layers of skin. Andrew picked up the pieces, as he continually picked up the pieces of Kevin Day, as Kevin returned the racket to his hand.

Andrew wondered if Kevin was even consciously aware he moved it straight to his left.

“Andrew?” Kevin asked, his silent question needing no more explanation.

“Ready already” Andrew was done here. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit goes to Nora 'coz she's my home girl and has ruined my life with this series that I am as obsessed with as Kevin is with Exy 
> 
> (okay, maybe not quite that much)
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> You guys are awesome.


	11. Session with Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Respect’ was a concept Andrew held in wary regard. It was one of those fairytale ideals like love and happy endings, peace and safety. Something pretty, hopeful; an aim to strive for and to write epic stories about; a delusioned fantasy for the mindless sheep of the world to comfort themselves with at night as they snuggled up into their beds and convinced themselves that the world was a whole and safe place.
> 
> Oh, but in the _real_ world-
> 
> That itty gritty underground where fairytale fantasies shrivelled and died, the only reality you could believe in was the one where you trusted no-one and nothing. Because the alternative had the predators closing in with vicious teeth and claws, and only the vultures would keep you company as they picked over your broken corpse. 
> 
> That’s if there was even anything left, however.
> 
>  
> 
> The Foxhole Court from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Oh, would you look at that, I'm not dead.
> 
> So, this took forever.
> 
> Firstly, because I struggled with this chapter and what possible nonsense Andrew and Bee could talk about.
> 
> And well, I might, maybe, have been distracted reading Six of Crows and some other amazing fic's.
> 
> However, I actually have been productive aswell and got completely swept up into writing two AU's that should be getting put up... soonish.  
> One will be a DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) fic that I somehow turned almost  
> completely Angst-less and is about 80% done. And the other is.... a Frozen AU (I know, I know, WTF right?) that I'm still outlining.
> 
>  
> 
> My apologies if anyone was actually waiting for this,  
> here it is,
> 
> FINALLY
> 
> **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER**  
>  uh, there are none really, except in this chapter I'm exploring Andrew's tendancy to be a misogynist (referenced in extra content) and the possible reason for his negative attitude towards woman so DISCLAIMER that anything written here is meant to be from the characters POV and not my personal opinion, yeah? Good.

‘Respect’ was a concept Andrew held in wary regard. It was one of those fairytale ideals like love and happy endings, peace and safety. Something pretty, hopeful; an aim to strive for and to write epic stories about; a delusioned fantasy for the mindless sheep of the world to comfort themselves with at night as they snuggled up into their beds and convinced themselves that the world was a whole and safe place.

Oh, but in the _real_ world-

That itty gritty underground where fairytale fantasies shrivelled and died, the only reality you could believe in was the one where you trusted no-one and nothing. Because the alternative had the predators closing in with vicious teeth and claws, and only the vultures would keep you company as they picked over your broken corpse.  
That’s if there was even anything left, however.

In the real world, words like ‘respect’ were thrown around by thugs and bullies; by those older, bigger, stronger; by those in positions of power. It was demanded in exchange for obedience and a convenient excuse for heavy-handedness and cruel punishment.

Respect? Oh, no. _No, no, no._ Andrew didn’t respect anyone. Willingly handing over that power to someone was so far beyond unbelievably stupid.

Andrew had… mutual understandings. Wary alliances. A balance of equal exchange and an interest in other’s skills or intelligence; things he found useful. And on that vary bare list of those he held in any measurement of consideration, only two of them were woman.

Andrew did not have a high regard of woman.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was, undoubtedly, gay, and everything to do with the fact that the woman he’d encountered in his life were useless. Poorly defended, physically weak, prone to submission and emotionally soft. Abandoned by the first one, his experience with the 13 other woman in his life before Juvie (barring one, of course, but Andrew dared not open that little rabbit hole) had cemented his opinion countless times with their neglect, their cruelty, and such willingness to turn a blind eye to the obvious perversions of their heavy-handed husbands.

The four female psychiatrists he’d encountered afterwards had done nothing to sway his opinion. For ones who claimed to be so adept at cracking into the mind -with their fancy degrees all displayed proudly on the wall of their tidy little offices- it really was such poor form that a drugged up 18year old with a barely completed education could rattle them so easily.

(Margarete Van Houdon had been particularly rattled after Andrew spent the entirety of their 3rd –and subsequently last- session together gleefully reciting to her her bio, previous known address, marital status, social security number and shoe size. It was the last one that had really had her in a state of panic, the poor dear. Who would want a _supposed_ sociopath knowing exactly where they lived and what track they liked to run with her dog, Prometheus, every day after work? Turns out, she sure didn’t.

Which was funny, _-he’d found it so, so very funny-_ since every scrap of information he’d collected had taken no more than 3 days sat down in front of a computer with no higher hacking skills than they taught in the last year of Columbia Highschool’s Computer Science Class. If she indeed desired to keep her privacy, then she was doing and atrocious job of it posting it all online for virtually any unstable client to follow.)

But there had been two woman who’d somehow managed to surpass the pitiful state of their gender; the exceptions to the rule, as it were.

Natalie Renee Walker, of course, because one such as Andrew would never have survived if he hadn’t recognised her as the dangerous predator she was under her pastels and eerie calm smile. The fact that she showed a sharp level of intellect and a firm understanding of boundaries saw her as a worthy ally.

And then there was Bee.

On principle Andrew should have taken a disliking to her. And, in the beginning, he had. Her obvious display of OCD tendencies and habit of displaying such vulnerable glass figurines was just asking for itching hands and unstable tempers to mess and break her careful arrangements, and her smooth and mellow calm just waiting to fracture.

But not a single thing Andrew did or said was able to unsettle her. 

At first it had become a game, poking and prodding at her reactions and mannerisms, trying to hook claws into the cracks and find what made her tick. Attacking her OCD seemed juvenile, far too easy, too boring. Andrew liked a challenge, and those that surrounded him were sorely lacking as entertainment indeed.

It did not take Andrew long to realise that DR. Betsy Ray Dobson was far more clever than he.

Pitiful as it was -rather like the Foxes Coach and resident Nurse- she used those Jedi mind tricks for good rather than evil. Maybe it should have been unsettling, just how clever and sharp she was; easily able to sift through the drugged up and scatter-brained words tumbling out of his wide and grinning mouth; easily able to discern between his manic ticks and surprised stillness. Mostly, he just found it funny, a sick sort of humour twisting in his gut and out his throat at just how incredibly easy she’d managed to sift through and pinpoint what lay at his core. A dangerous wire to walk, but she instinctively respected his boundaries and lines the moment she found them, and neither pushed nor prodded when Andrew made it clear that he wouldn’t allow it. 

It had taken her exactly 6 weekly sessions to determine that Andrew had been misdiagnosed and had made it quite plainly clear what she’d thought about his ‘medication’ without expressly declaring it. 

_Oh, yes. Bee had certainly earned that expensive piece of paper, hm?_

But what had truly made her tolerable was that she was always stocked in the velvety Belgian Cocoa that had quickly become Andrew’s favourite.

“Hello, Andrew. It’s good to see you again” Bee smiled that predictable warm smile of hers, causing dark pivoting creases in the skin around her mouth, which matched the contents of her cocoa tin. 

Andrew grinned, head tilted at her as he sat in the middle of the sofa, “oh, Bee. No, no, don’t waste your breath on such sentiments to me. I won’t hear them.”

Bee sat opposite, lifting the gold-coloured glasses that dangled from her neck from a thin and cheap metal chain, “Why would think I wouldn’t be pleased to see you, Andrew?” she smiled that gentle smile at him, the one that reminded him so much of a certain Walker.

His grin turned sharp at her clever but obvious tact, an amused hum vibrating a tingle against his pressed lips. His eyes roamed the room as he once again pondered the meaning behind that chain. Was it by coincidence, or design? A sign of trust, or plain foolishness? To have something so easily turned from a harmless tool into a conveniently placed weapon in a position such as hers was certainly careless. But Bee was well accustomed to sitting in potentially dangerous situations with her stint working at the Juvenile Corrections Facility.

Andrew had been there, lived with them, and knew exactly how volatile and desperate teenage minds could be when they grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. How badly they needed to _prove_ something. Earn their cred. Be a man. Even the soft and placid could walk out a hardened prospect. He knew with an almost certainty, that had she been wearing a chain around her neck when visiting with unrestrained offenders in his facility, someone would have tried to strangle her with it.

_Oh, but isn’t it just so amusing to think that, depending on where that situation feel between Cass’s phone call and Luther’s impromptu visit with a pathetic and wasted twin, that ‘someone’ might have been him._

Bee’s office was immaculate, as always. A sky blue sofa with a matching tasselled pillow’s placed, ‘just-so’. Her own chair was placed directly opposite, exact centre as the white coffee table and potted fern between them. The desk in the corner was clear of everything but a kettle and a hot plate. A short bookshelf was against the wall, but only the bottom three selves held books. Bee had a collection of various subjects ranging from socioeconomic and psychology publications, a mix of well written novels badly concealing the obvious moral of self-discovery and acceptance, to a thin and well-worn children’s book displaying an obnoxiously blue train who _miraculously_ achieves his goal by the power of positive thinking and self-belief.

Andrew disliked that particular one the most.

The top shelf was spotless from any hint of dust, much like the rest of the room. A clear, clean, white painted wood was covered in blown glass figurines in the shape of various animals, all set equidistant to each other and ordered in a pattern of shape, size and colour

“Ah, a hot summer. And to think, you could be on a beach somewhere in Hawaii with the rest of the faculty,” Andrew mused, manic grin cutting across his face.

“You over-estimate the salary of my profession.” She arched her brow as the corner of her mouth tilted, the deep mahogany of her laugh lines standing out sharply in the light.

“Oh, Bee! Wrong choice there, hm?” Andrew’s fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on his thigh, the tick taking the minor edge of his restless energy. He clicked his tongue, the sound a mock of pity he had no capacity to feel, “should have gone on to delve into the minds of the rich and famous. I bet their shrinks could buy their own islands”

Bee smiled, deepening those deep dark cracks like ridges in an ancient mountain, “Possibly. But that is not where my interests ever lay. I am where I want to be.”

“A lot of sand at the beach, hm?”

“Precisely,” a curve to her lips as she eyed him over her reading glasses, “shall I make some cocoa?”

“It’s almost like you read my mind”

Agitated fingers tapped, tapped, tapped. _Tap, tap, tap._ Each movement of the tendons in his wrist pulled and tugged and pressed against the solid steel at his pulse. It was both a comfort and a distraction. 

“Have you made any progress in the novel since we last spoke?” she spoke easily, the words rolling off her like waves as she turned to busy herself with mugs and switches, that precious tin of cocoa a shiny red on the bench.

“Oh, no. No time for that. Kevin is far too neurotic and high maintenance to spare time for delving into pages. I’m more tempted to use it as tinder to set his bed aflame,” A laugh crawled out his throat and it was a twisted and cold thing, all harsh lines and edges.

Bee. Oh Bee, so calmly unshakable, didn’t even bat a lash, “and how are you finding it to be staying in Abby’s home? The summer break is long and know it can be an adjustment living in another person’s space”

“Silly busy Bee, you’ve read my files, hm? Of course you have. Then you know that house-hopping and I are well acquainted” 

“That may be true, but just because you are used to something doesn’t mean it can’t still have an impact.”

Oh, how terribly on point that sentiment was. No matter, any part of him that had been able to be impacted had withered and died years ago. He was nothing but existing, taking up space and anchored by his deals. Sharing space was hardly a blip on his radar, and the other occupants of the house were always quick to clear his space when warned.

“Oh, Bee. Don’t bore me with your sentiments, hm? They’re not very creative”

He was humming a tune as his eyes darted around the room, the beam of light breaking through the blinds catching the figurines aglow in a prism of colours. His fingers twisted and tapped, like he could catch one of the scattered beams and crush it to dust between his fingers.

“And what would interest you?”

Not much at all was deserving of his wandering attention, but he did have one or two new projects to fix. One, of course, he would never mention because Andrew was still resolute in his stubborn cold war with the other Minyard. The other, however, was a puzzle he was very much interested in cracking. It was a game of cat in mouse, except Andrew was far more dangerous than an ordinary cat.

“So little to waste my time on, but Coach’s newest rodent has proven himself to have teeth” Andrew bared his teeth in a grin, sharp like a warning. Cut like a promise.

“How are you getting along with Neil? I understand he is staying with David and training with you at the Court”

Andrew let out a laugh, low and dark, “oh Kevin is all twisted up about his little protégée. So many knots, and unceasing in his punishment. The kid is a sucker for it and it won’t be long til he breaks. I’ll get see him unravel”

A reaction, finally. Just the slightest little bunch in her placid expression to give her away. Because she knew -of course she knew- that Andrew didn’t take problems lightly or tread carefully. After all, she’d been the one to patch Boyd back together after Andrew had taken that little problem into his own hands.

He made a mock gasp, hand held to his chest like it could possibly contain anything inside it, “oh no, Bee! You disapprove”

She placed her pen perfectly centre of the notebook in her lap and looked at him with her shrewd gaze, “I’m not here to pass judgement on you”

“Ah, but you still do, hm? You can’t help it; no one can. All just slaves to our own opinions,” he flexed his fingers and curled them as they crept to the cuff of his bands, “but don’t you worry, Bee! This one’s vice is masks and deceptions, not needles and pills.”

So clever, was Bee. So passive and cunning. Her careful detachment and open expression was surely a lesson in control and composure. People could be so expressive, so transparent, but not Bee. No, not the busy Bee she was, collecting information like pollen for her little hive of information.

“I look forward to meeting him when the semester starts” 

Oh, what a funny thing to ponder just how the little rabbit will fare against DR. Betsy Dobson. A runaway and a liar would have much to hide from a psychiatric professional and had already displayed a glaring reluctance for their mandatory session at the start of the semester.

Hm, what a shame that Bee had avoided Abby’s dinner. Watching Neil Josten with his blunt discomfort around Abby and Coach would have nothing on how he could possibly react to Bee’s gentle probing. 

He was _almost_ disappointed he couldn’t be a fly on the wall for that particular session, for it was sure to hold some entertainment value.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated and hopefully the next one wont take another billion years to write,
> 
> <3
> 
> (also, if you're interested, this scene is the parallel of Neil walking into Wymacks apartment and hearing Kevin's breakdown about the Raven's changing districts. This is the therapy session Wymack threatened to call Andrew at to stop Kevin's panicked and desperate idea to go back to Riko)


	12. Fox Tower: Move in day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of practice for the Palmetto Foxes was Monday, June 10th. All players were required to arrive on Sunday 9th to settle into their dorms.
> 
> Not that Andrew had any actual interest their arrival, but it was a change in monotony of the past 27 days. Watching Kevin strip down their newest striker to barely more than an incompetent sack of sinew and bone had lost its initial amusement, and Kevin’s fixation on Josten was almost as exhausting as his fixation on Andrew himself.
> 
> Also, there was new opportunities that would now present themselves with the team’s imminent arrival.
> 
>  
> 
> Basically the series from Andrew's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and... we're getting somewhere...
> 
> whoop
> 
> :)

The first day of practice for the Palmetto Foxes was Monday, June 10th. All players were required to arrive on Sunday 9th to settle into their dorms.

Not that Andrew had any actual interest their arrival, but it was a change in monotony of the past 27 days. Watching Kevin strip down their newest striker to barely more than an incompetent sack of sinew and bone had lost its initial amusement, and Kevin’s fixation on Josten was almost as exhausting as his fixation on Andrew himself.

Also, there was new opportunities that would now present themselves with the team’s imminent arrival.

First was the freedom of the Fox Tower. The space at the dorms would undoubtedly be far more cramped with their new room of four, but no longer would their comings and goings be witnessed by the observant team nurse, or reported back to Wymack if she deemed it necessary. Andrew had no care for her nosiness or inquiries, but he had managed to tie himself to a man who had many vulnerabilities to exploit where he had none.

It was an odd thing, when he thought about it. A startling and ridiculous notion that the fates of others were so inexplicably tied to his own actions. How foolish, how twisted, that a man as self-destructive and contrary as himself was suddenly the pillar to hold others steady. It was a hard angle to exploit in terms of the other Minyard and Nicky, for without threats to their safety no-one had a leg to stand on. But when Kevin came along, along came Exy, and it was the only thing that held the broken ex-Raven together.

However, for Winfield or Coach to exploit that avenue to get to Andrew was extreme and far more damaging to Kevin’s psyche than either would be willing to cause with their bleeding hearts. Neither of them had the capacity to be that cold. Their predictability was convenient.

Second was the further distraction of extra bodies. Barring Renee as the only tolerable exception, the other Foxes were barely worth Andrews notice and were inconsequential. But their petty dramas and bags full of issues were a good diversion and smoke screen for Andrew’s plans. For he surely hadn’t forgotten his determination to piece together the freshman Fox and determine what made him tick –and then exploit it as necessary. Neil Josten was far too careful around Andrew and his group, but with all the others looking at him and prying into his life the way the busybodies always did meant an opportunity for more cracks to appear and more ways for the rabbit to slip up.

He was also curious as to Renee’s opinion of Neil. He didn’t like to have to admit that the medication had a way of twisting his thoughts, but it was undeniable. He was intrigued to know if Renee saw what he saw.

Thirdly, and really the main reason for Andrew to be anticipating the move-in day, was that the dormitories locks and security measures were no more difficult to bypass than the flimsy locks on a bathroom stall. At least, they were for someone with Andrew’s deft ability to manipulate his way into spaces determined to keep him out.

He’d broken into Coach’s apartment more times than he cared to count (although he could count them and remember them easily, all 12 times) but each time had been without the care of Wymack knowing of his presence. In fact, he’d counted on it, as Coach slowly discovered empty spaces in his liquor cabinet and the 2 times finding Andrew sitting there, smoking on his couch. The first had been the time when Andrew had agreed to sign the contracts for himself, Nicky and Aaron for the athlete’s scholarships at Palmetto State University. The second was when Andrew had agreed to let Kevin stay and had attached himself to the broken man with a deal that felt more like a weighted chain.

This time, however, Andrew had wanted his presence unknown. Andrew refused to leave Kevin alone with the rabbit whilst Andrew snooped through his things, and there had been no clear way to subtly determine when both Coach and Josten would be vacant from the apartment for an acceptable length of time without that time coinciding with Kevin’s presence.

It had quickly become apparent that the best opportunity to delve into the few possessions of one Neil Josten was on the close proximity of the Fox Tower dorms. Josten was to room with Boyd and Gordon, the first to arrive being Boyd. Andrew had seen the arrival times pinned to the Court’s notice board the day before.

The move of their possessions from Abagail’s home was without fanfare and took no more than two trips. Nicky complained about the heat to deaf ears as they hauled their few bags and furniture into the elevator. Aaron and Nicky rode up with their belongings as Andrew and Kevin opted to take the stairs over the cramped space of the elevator full of gear.

Their room was number 319, closest to the elevator. The girls had room 320 beside them and the others had 321 after. 13 again, that number followed him like a mist. It was amusing in a twisted way, had he owned a superstitious bone in his body, just how often that number crawled up into his existence. He couldn’t help but take notice of it, but it was easily dismissed as irrelevant. Andrew didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t grip between his own fingers, and even then it was likely to slip through like sand.

The dorm room came with basic furniture; a kitchenette to the left, the floor a cheap scuffed linoleum that couldn’t be polished clean, and no matter how strong the industrial grade bleach, it was still no match for years of college athletes; A small fridge/freezer to accommodate food not otherwise provided by the college cafeteria; three lined chipboard cupboards; a sink and a microwave. Naturally, the faculty didn’t trust its college students with something as potentially dangerous as a stovetop. They weren’t so naive to think that elements would be used for anything other than heating knives, even in the athlete’s tower.

To the right was a short hallway with the bathroom at the end and a door on the left leading to the bedroom. Twin bunks lined both the walls with four sets of drawers scattered without reason in between. Andrew was quick to take the loft closest to the door. Kevin knew his place and threw his bedding above him. The other Minyard was predictable in his placement on the other bunk with Nicky to squeeze his height in the loft opposite.

Andrew’s first mission was to disable the smoke alarm. The second was to remove the protective netting on the window in the spacious living area. No one batted an eye as he worked, expertly incapacitating the mechanism and then popping out the window screen. He was well practiced by now and it was only Kevin –his first time sharing a dorm with Andrew and the others- scrunching his nose in distaste as Andrew perched on the newly arranged desks underneath the liberated window and took a drag. 

The smoke curled in his lungs as the others moved to arrange things to their liking. Andrew had no care. His requirements were already attended to.

Nicky and the doppelganger set up the Xbox, swamping themselves into the two mud-coloured and partially stained beanbags with controllers in their hands, the only other furniture in the room. Kevin slinked off to the bedroom, likely to link up to the unrestricted campus Wi-Fi and submerge himself into the many Exy streaming websites he paid exuberant amounts for.

Andrew watched the stream of smoke curl between his fingers before the muggy breeze stole it out the exposed window. The sunlight caught on the curls, highlighting them in wisps of white and grey before they dissipated into the air to the world outside.

He could see the carpark from here, void and empty for the moment before all the other teams arrived to fill it. 3 stories was high, and maybe without his medication he’d feel that swoop in his stomach at the distance from the ground. On it though, it did nothing but niggle, a little tickle like when you’re turning corners too fast; or spinning in a squeaky old office chair for hours on end as your only source of entertainment, waiting for a member of foster home number 3 to let you out of their rusted and moulded shed you were locked in punishment for wetting yourself because your 10 year old foster sister had told you a story of the demon that resided in the toilet that snatched up naughty orphan boys and took them to the sewers to keep as slaves, feeding them only on the waste that was found there.

_Oh, how twisted it was that that was one of the better memories._

A monstrous blue truck pulled up to the towers entrance, the New York number plate effortlessly pulled up from an uninterested memory. The tray was overladen with restrained furniture. _Stuff._ Couches and shelving easily distinguishable from this height, as were the two small figures emerging. One was easily recognisable as smaller than the other, both with dark hair, but otherwise opposites with Boyd’s dark complexion and highly spiked hair and Josten’s swamped and overwhelmed frame hunching barely higher than the bed of the truck.

Andrew watched as the bed was unloaded, the moving figures almost hypnotic in their motions as he observed them in a daze. It wasn’t until the sounds of shuffling and moving in the hallway faded from under the sounds of gunfire and slaughtered zombies emitting from the television set that Andrew’s consciousness finally snapped back into action.

His phone told him that two of the Foxes woman were due to arrive in 27 minutes.

“Hey, Nicky. Watch the door, would you? Tell me who comes and goes”

Nicky blinked at the screen before acknowledging Andrew, likely pulling out of his own gaming-induced daze, “what?”

“Now would be good, hm? You know I don’t like waiting” Andrew’s grin was feral in its space and clear in its warning.

Nicky scrambled to his feet, the discarded controller falling to the floor unpaused as his character died in a gory display of vibrant, animated blood.

The other Minyard glared at the screen but dared not open his mouth.

Not two minutes later, Nicky was giving a flirtatious greeting out the open doorway. Always tolerant and diplomatic, Boyd’s easily distinguishable low tones followed soon after before his dark shadow disappeared down the hall. Nicky glanced to Andrew curiously, but Andrew ignored the obvious question in favour of the next cigarette burning a hole in his lungs.

After all, it wasn’t Boyd he was waiting for.

4 minutes and 28 seconds later, Nicky’s voice recaptured Andrews attention as he spoke from the doorway, “hey stranger,” he drawled, shoulders leaning back against the doorjamb as his easy smile crawled across his face, “what’d you think of Matt?”

The slow and guarded voice Andrew had been anticipating came in reply, his lean form casting shadow on its way past the door “he seems fine,”

Nicky laughed, voice loud and amused as it followed the retreating figure down the hall, “He _is_ fine”

A minute ticked by. Then two. Andrew waiting until he caught the unmistakable figure of the resident rabbit jogging off up the street. Sans precious duffle.

Andrew stubbed his cigarette out on the peeling windowsill, the grimy green showing through in places under the terrible paint-job of the white, before slipping his black-cased phone into his pocket and sliding soundlessly of the desk.

_Time to see if you’re hiding anything interesting, hm?_

Picking locks took a certain amount of finesse and concentration, made that much more difficult when your head was filled with candyfloss and a buzzing of electricity was trapped underneath your skin. Andrew was practiced though, both with forcing concentration when necessary and with manipulating the standard-issue home-depo locks. Regardless, the process was never as fast and suave as Hollywood liked to portray.

He was counting 6 minutes before he finally heard that tell-tale click announcing access. His grin was wide, baring teeth, and for once not entirely forced as he slipped his way inside, the picks slinking their way back up his bands.

The setup of Josten’s apartment was the same style his own, the girls between them having the flipped version. With barely another acknowledgement he bypassed all the furniture and electronic paraphernalia clearly belonging to Boyd and headed straight for the bedroom.

It was bare and unlived in, the cleanest it would no doubt be until next year. Bags lined the top bunk that Andrew dismissed instantly, all of them clearly belonging to the tall backliner. Really, there was nowhere to hide anything, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility that the rabbit had burrowed his own away in another cupboard somewhere. Either way, Andrew was going to find it.

Unsurprisingly _–or was it surprising?-_ the ratty blue duffle showed up in the first place Andrew looked. Squeezed into the bottom drawer of the dresser, the drawer having barely closed around it, there was the precious few possessions that Josten had deemed important enough to bring with him.

Andrew pried it out carefully, trying not to disturb the contents. He unzipped it in one long move, folded the flap out of the way, and took stock of what the bag contained. By now Andrew had seen every variation of the same over-sized and over-washed eight outfits, including the almost threadbare shirt and sweats Andrew assumed Josten slept in.

He wondered, for a moment, how Neil would look in something much more suited to his form; something that fitted well to his firm lines and sharp edges; something designed to highlight that fiery and defiant side of him; something that wasn’t washed out, smudged and intended to blend him into the shadows. 

Andrew suspected that it could be something worth looking at.

Andrew could be careful and meticulous when he needed to. It took twice as much concentration to fight the haze of his medication, but he was certainly smart enough to know that the rabbit was exactly the type of paranoid to know exactly how he placed and folded his clothes.

It would be amusing –maybe- to purposely mess up his bag and watch the resulting chaos. Just the thought of the little rabbit bristling at the blatant invasion brought a feral curl to Andrew’s mouth and a bubble of wicked laughter in his chest. 

And he almost did.

But what Andrew found buried beneath the tragic contents of Josten’s limited fashion choices had that thought disappearing instantly and any curl of amusement freezing dead in his chest.

On the outside it was merely a harmless binder, a cracked and faded black in colour. That was where the harmlessness ended and the whole mysterious case of Neil Josten cracked open at the ribs to revel the rotten underneath. Pages upon pages of articles, newspaper clippings, photographs and printed reports were hastily glued to countless A4 paper’s and slipped inside plastic sleeves. And every single one of them, front to back, was about Riko Moriyama and Kevin day, the prodigal sons of Exy, until Kevin’s career-damaging injury and the articles split. Andrew was a fast reader, his memory was so close to perfect he despised it, skimming over articles to find himself mentioned, the other Foxes, but all were only in relation to Kevin.

A sick and twisted curl rose like a violent wave under his skin, the heat and fire of it curling in his throat and chest at the obvious stalker like obsession. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Hidden away between the pages was cash. Lots and lots of cash. A lot more cash than a homeless little runaway like Josten had any business of having, unless he was trying to hide it. Then there were slips of paper, a list of accounts and certificates for 5-digit amounts that could be cashed out discreetly. There was pages of numbers and words, seemly random, but Andrew was willing to bet they were coded. With what, he didn’t know, but that didn’t matter.

The last slip in the binder confirmed Andrew’s previous suspicions, containing an optometrist’s note and a small box filled with contact lenses. Coloured contact lenses, which was curious wasn’t it? Lenses were there to help you see, so why was the rabbit trying to change the colour of his eyes?

There were a few possibilities, a few threads of theories starting to develop. The most obvious one was certainly the most dangerous, but Andrew had long ago learned not to believe in coincidences.

It was all just so convenient. Too fucking convenient. Small’s little flirtation with suicide so late in the recruiting period had thrown them through a desperate loop and had them scrambling for a striker sub who was both unsigned and had any hope of standing up to Kevin’s meticulous standards. Then this little know-nothing showed up out of nowhere, with apparently no experience, but still managed to capture Kevin’s attention and focus like only Exy ever could. 

Josten was obsessed with Exy, the same way Kevin was. The same way Riko was. He lived and breathed it like it was the only point of existing. Just how far was he willing to go just for a piece of it? What lines would he be willing to cross to keep it?

There was the intense and anxious way Neil looked at Kevin, like he wasn’t sure whether to grovel at Day’s feet or knock his block off. He had a folder filled with the history of Riko and Kevin’s public lives like a meticulous shrine. He had cash to burn, and every word out his mouth was spoken with weighted caution and smattered with lies so dense that Andrew could almost taste them.

Oh yes, Andrew had his theories, but what else could this little rodent be but yet another of Riko’s little pets? 

Kevin had spilled pieces as the bottle loosened his tongue, reveling piece by piece the twisted and dark side of Evermore and the Raven’s Nest. Fractured stories of what Riko and Tetsuji would do to those they deemed under their control. Josten had no contactable guardians, no trace to follow, no evidence of existing before his year at Millport. Neil Josten –if that was even his real name- was very clearly hiding what Andrew had already concluded to be scars under his clothes; evidence that could line up with Kevin’s inferring’s of exactly how Riko Moriyama liked to take liberties, finding bodies to take out his childish tantrums and sadistic whims on.

The little rabbit was proving to be even more of a threat than Andrew first suspected. Andrew needed answers. And he was going to get them by any means he deemed necessary.

Andrew was careful and meticulous in his repacking of Neil’s bag, the thought of reveling his invasion quickly dismissed. The stakes just climbed higher and Andrew wasn’t ready to show his hand just yet. He would watch, wait, and revel his information in an environment he could control.

Besides, Andrew knew just how dangerous and drastic desperate men could be. He would wait until the time was right before bringing the little rabbit to that brink.

Who knows, it might be almost satisfying to watch Neil Josten finally break.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers apply
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it,  
> all comments and Kudo's appreciated
> 
> <3


	13. Confrontations at Fox Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a general rule, Andrew didn’t like surprises. 
> 
> He spent time watching, observing, calculating. Predicting the moves of others, reading their body language and tells, the discrepancies in their words and concessions in relation to others, was all a necessity of survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we have another one. 
> 
> whew
> 
> TW: for canon violence when Kevin loses his shit

As a general rule, Andrew didn’t like surprises. 

He spent time watching, observing, calculating. Predicting the moves of others, reading their body language and tells, the discrepancies in their words and concessions in relation to others, was all a necessity of survival.

Through 13 different foster homes and 4 different half-way houses, he’d picked up the trick of reading the board and the positions of the players on it. He always tried to get a lay of the land before he put himself into play. It didn’t always change the outcome, but at least Andrew had a prediction of what to expect. What cards he could play and what pressure points he could manipulate. What he’d have to survive through and what he’d have to avoid.

Juvie was where Andrew learned how to place his feet. Unlike his temporary and vulnerable position in the homes of others, under the control of those only too keen to exploit it; Juvie was state mandated, regulated, and inspected. Other than the guards and various employees, everyone in juvie was on a level playing field, as it were. They were all inmates, all criminals put inside for various crimes some liked to brag about and embellish; and some liked to pretend never happened. 

It was the most even ground Andrew had ever stood on, even with the disadvantage of his 5 feet nothing height and tender age of 13 years old. He was hardly the youngest, or the smallest. But he was definitely no were near the oldest and the biggest. Some were in for years, others were only in for months. None of it mattered. 

What mattered was that juvie was the place where Andrew learned how to really fight back. 

Andrew had always been picked as an easy target. Small, weak, defenceless, attractive -that one was always a particularly distasteful observation when it earned such unwanted attention. He’d once been referred to as a helpless, scrangy kitten; all desperate teeth and claws, small and cute and, ultimately, so easy to break. By the time Andrew Doe arrived at the juvenile facility of California, he had absolutely nothing left to break. 

Unlike many of the others.

Being stood over and threatened was nothing to him; for he had been stood over by fully grown men, and these were nothing but juvenile boys trying to play hard at being gangster. Offers of recruitment from those who had no power and invitations into their play-group gangs with offers of protection in exchange for, well, servitude and respect.

In his file, it was noted that Andrew didn’t play nice with others. Juvie was no exception.

In juvie, puberty finally kicked in and what he lacked in height he eagerly gained in weight. With 3 solid meals a day, Andrew had calories to burn, and he didn’t waste a single one of them. His fast metabolism had always been a hindrance to his size, but pig Higgins had finally proved some semblance of worth and gotten him into a place that had access to weights and sports rehabilitation plans. Andrew had no interest in team sports, but he was certainly interested in making up in muscle what he lacked vertically now that puberty was finally ready to play ball and let him keep it.

In juvie, a lot of things about Andrew changed, but instinctive lessons were almost impossible to break and even his ‘medication’ couldn’t erase Andrew’s cool observation of the world. 

So no, for a man accustomed to having a working theory on those around him, Andrew didn’t particularly like surprises.

Oh, but they really were starting to make things a little bit interesting.

Andrew had missed any sign of a break in, far too distracted by his evolving theories and the curl of nicotine replacing his oxygen. It wasn’t until the door slammed open, the handle slipping itself neatly into the already dented plaster, that the intruder became noticed.

All heads whipped to the doorway so fast you could almost hear their necks crack, every limb stilled and tensed at the sound and the sight of an angrily flushed Neil Josten imposing on their space.

_Ah, surprise. How unwanted._

Andrew flicked his cigarette out the window and smiled, baring teeth at their ruffled and indignant intruder, “Try again, Neil. You’re in the wrong room!”

The game paused in the background, Aaron turning to Nicky with a cool and unimpressed expression, the German clumsy but easily distinguishable off his tongue, “we locked that”

“Last I checked,” Nicky replied to him with a far easier fluency before turning his attention back to their unwanted presence with an easy smile, switching dialects smoothly, “Hey, sounds like Matt’s back. You meet Dan and Renee yet?”

Oh, Nicky. Before, he’d been mildly deceitful and appeasing. But with four years of practice being their guardian, he’d learned many necessary and, somewhat useful, tricks to attempt to smooth over their rough edges and placate tension.

How unfortunate, it appeared that Neil was having none of it. 

What came out of the curious little liar’s mouth was certainly not English. His tone, harsh and fuelled in anger, matched the red flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks as those coloured brown eyes attempted to cut Kevin where he sat. Oh, such a shame, but was a lost cause, really. Kevin had to deal with Andrew’s threats and warnings, and Andrew was hardly the worst he’d ever seen.

The shock of Neil’s invasion was hardly passed before the room froze once again at the language being spoken. None of them could understand it of course –none except Kevin- but all of them had heard the damaged striker’s angry mutterings and swears in it that they could recognise the lilt of the language.

They all knew Kevin spoke French; it was an open secret, but a secret nonetheless. But exactly how did this jumped up little runaway know that Kevin spoke it? 

_Oh, how tantalising. How convenient. How puzzling. Such a vast array of dangerous tricks for one advertised as merely a beaten teenaged boy from a broken home._

Nicky was busy gaping like a fish, the speech shocked out of him for once. The other Minyard’s attention was fixed on Kevin, gaze burning a hole in a clear demand for translation.

Andrew only had eyes for Neil. His moment of surprise gave way to what could be an almost sick sense of delight, if it wasn’t so dark and twisted, “wow, another one of Neil’s many talents. How many can one man have?”

Neil ignored him, gaze flicking away in favour of Kevin, more French flowing from his tongue. Andrew didn’t like that. He didn’t like the way this little freshman spoke to Kevin, or about him. He especially didn’t like the way he looked at Kevin. This wasn’t like some misplaced attraction or desire. It wasn’t hatred or some relative of the feeling. Andrew hadn’t quite recognised it before, but after finding Neil’s little folder, it was as clear as glass what that intense look in the rabbit’s eye was; obsession. Dark and ugly obsession.

Kevin deigned to answer, voice reluctant and cold as he placed the magazine he was reading down on the desk he was sitting at and turned to face Neil.

Andrew watched, and waited. Neil was usually a carefully placed mask of uninteresting, but this quick temper lit him up like a blowtorch in a dark room. Even with the speed of their words, Andrew didn’t miss the accented sound of his own name being mentioned by both of them. It was back and forth, Neil’s seething anger and Kevin wholly unimpressed by it. The words, syllables, flowed almost effortlessly and efficiently. Andrew was willing to bet it was far more advanced than what was provided by any public Highschool level French class. Having learnt a secondary language himself and lived with Nicky for years, he was highly aware that Neil’s was the kind of fluency that only came with total immersion.

Then Kevin’s face went white and the little rabbit’s mouth split, twisting to something feral and cruel with the words he spat. Before anyone could even blink, Kevin was moving. He was out of his chair so fast the momentum knocked it backwards, the edge of the chipped metal catching on the edge of the desk before gravity and kinetic energy won and tumbled it to the carpet with barely a thump that contrasted obviously to the violence of the drop.

Before the chair even hit the floor, the little rabbit had bolted out the door and was slamming it closed behind him. The hollowed wood barely had a moment to settle in its doorway before a furious Day wrenched it open again like he was going to rip it from its hinges. The door swung violently, slamming back into the indent in the wall and vibrating visibly as Kevin stormed after the troublesome runaway

Oh, how funny. A bubble of darkly amused laughter snuck its way out Andrew’s throat. There was the unmistakeable sound of a body colliding with a wall and Kevin’s furious snarl. Andrew caught the door before it could swing back closed on the ricochet and followed the unpredicted drama now causing a scene out in the hallway. 

The little rabbit hadn’t run fast enough, for the furious fox had him in his clutches and looked ready to tear him to shreds. Josten; a scrawny little thing, all jutting bones and lean muscle, had no hope of escape against Kevin; a foot taller, body solid and made for collision. Kevin had strikers hands, disciplined to unwaveringly grip Exy rackets. And those hands were currently gripped around the the little rabbit’s slender throat.

Neil’s fingers clawed desperately at Kevin’s wrists, short nails having no more effect than leaving angry red lines in their wake. His petite body bucked and twisted, squirming like a snake in a futile attempt of escape from the unforgiving pressure of Kevin pinning him against the wall.

Maybe Andrew wouldn’t even have to deal with Josten after all; maybe Kevin would just kill the little rodent himself. 

Matt Boyd was the next presence in the hallway, steps quick towards the two strikers with an obvious intent. Nicky let out a curse under his breath, and Andrew had been too focused on the scene to have noticed Nicky slip up behind him. Nicky was that careful step back behind him, but straining himself to look out into the hallway without actually touching Andrew.

Boyd’s arm lifted and snaked around Kevin’s throat, biceps pulling and muscles bunching as he caught Kevin’s chin in the crock of his elbow. With an unforgiving jerk, Boyd wrenched Kevin’s head back at a dangerous angle, forcing Kevin’s body to arch back and give up its attempt of embedding Josten into the scuffed and dirty plaster of the wall. 

“Get off him, Day” Boyd snarled at him, the threat undermined by the prospect of someone spoiling for a fight, as his grip tightened.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” Nicky spoke from behind Andrew’s shoulder, shooting Andrew a nervous glance before looking back at the scene, “come on Matt”

Andrew wasn’t interested in talking. He was waiting. It was one thing use force to break up a fight, but anther to redirect it. It was a fine line that Boyd was walking. Andrew was curious to see if he would cross it.

Kevin was undeterred from his attempted homicide, freeing one hand from its brutal grip around the fragile line of Josten’s throat. His elbow snapped back like a pin was released from a spring, driving a hard and vicious elbow into Boyd’s ribs. Boyd grunted and visibly winced, but the grip around Kevin’s throat only tightened. If Kevin had any desire to breathe any time soon, then he’d have to let go of Neil entirely. Boyd yanked hard and hauled Kevin away the moment Kevin’s grip laxed, Boyd’s other arm encircling around Kevin’s biceps to yank them away and out of grabbing distance.

Josten tilted, arms and fingers scrabbling at the wall behind him for balance. His chest was heaving, the noise of his oxygen-deprived lungs sucking in greedily at the air was so loud even in the unfolding drama. Face flushed red, eyes wild and bright with adrenaline; he looked very much like the skittish prey caught between the moment of fight and flight, who could only freeze. An angry ring of fingerprints left a vicious mark around the delicate skin of his neck. Andrew was almost interested to wonder if they would fade before Neil’s antagonism did.

Kevin twisted and turned, fighting the restraining arms and only two steps later he wriggled free. It wasn’t Josten he was after this time, however; it was Boyd. Kevin was fuelled by some kind of rage, a caged beast ready to lash out at any threat with his fists.

Boyd deflecting it with a single swipe was entirely predictable, the motion fluid with the practised ease of someone who trained to dodge fists regularly; Kevin’s was thrown in anger and frustration, not in any kind of practised skill. It was an obvious difference there; the comparison between an angry brawler lashing out, and trained fighter using instincts and learned technique. 

Boyd retaliated, using a follow-up fist to Kevin’s solar-plexus. It landed with that unmistakable thud of fist meeting tender flesh, and the sound of Kevin’s breath leaving him in a ragged and pained grunt. The momentum of impact sent Kevin sprawling back against the wall, is own hands now scrabbling desperately to keep himself upright and steady.

Boyd was keyed up for a fight, body and stance angled for more. But that had been quite enough.

Andrew stepped forwards, unblocking the doorway and placing himself directly into Boyd’s path. His stance was casual, his smile was bright, but Boyd would have been an idiot to notice the obvious warning in Andrew’s eyes if he dared continue his approach. Boyd may have the height and weight advantage on him, but Andrew was armed with an array of sharp blades and an unhesitating ruthlessness to use them. He also didn’t fight fair.

Why would he, after all? Life was never fair and he would be a fool not to press any advantage.  
Boyd, wisely, took a step back, shooting a worried glance towards the little trouble maker currently still gripping the wall for support and gathering back his breath. He looked neither shocked nor afraid at the recent asphyxiation, staring at the far wall determinedly like the people around him would disappear if he only concentrated hard enough.

_Oh, what unhealthy and transparent coping mechanisms you have, little rabbit_

Andrew could feel Kevin seething behind him, like a ball of fury still brimming to burst. It was better though. Better than cowering and hiding. Better than panic and fear. Andrew knew all about anger.

The girls chose that moment to enter the hallway, Wild’s in the lead and stepping alongside Boyd with a tight and angry expression. She swept a dark look between them all, assessing and no-doubt jumping to the wrong conclusions. Her gaze lingered on Josten and the telltale fingermarks still a vibrant, angry red around his throat. Her voice was coated in that stern anger she liked to think had any impact, “what do you think you’re doing? It’s our first day back. Why are we fighting already?”

“Technically we never left,” Andrew pointed out, smile sharp and tone one step back from mocking, “and Neil’s been here a couple of weeks, so it’s your first day back, not ours.” He leaned around Wilds, catching a glimpse of Renee’s unmistakable white and mismatched coloured hair that always gave Andrew the image of a Crayola box having thrown up on her, “Hello, Renee. About time!”

Renee opened her mouth but Wilds was clearly unimpressed with his obvious dismissal, “explanation now, Andrew”

“You’re looking at me like it’s my fault,” Andrew wagged a finger at her in mock disappointment, though he hadn’t expected anything less. “Look again, why don’t you? Neil’s at our room, which meant he brought the fight to us. Dan, your bias is cruel and unprofessional.”

Wilds eyes narrowed at him coolly, but she turned her unimpressed look towards Josten and gave him a quick head-to-toe before she stared him down, “what’s the problem?”

“There isn’t one” Neil’s was cool and calm in his denial. All trace of any trauma having been quickly wiped clean, feigned disinterest and aloofness so palpable Andrew wondered if he’d almost fooled himself into believing it.

When Wilds jerked an exaggerated hand between him and Kevin, Neil’s shrug was all nonchalance, the corner of his mouth twisting down in a frown of dismissal, “Just a difference of opinions. Nothing that matters”

If Andrew had any doubt before about Neil’s little tantrum, it was becoming a lot more evident that Andrews little invasion had been spotted. For him to go off so soon after arriving back; to go at Kevin in a language he shouldn’t even know Kevin spoke; his clear refusal to allow the upperclassmen to get involved in it, least the uncover the _real_ reason for this little scuffle in the halls.

The pieces of the puzzle were putting themselves together so rapidly that the picture could be nothing but obvious.

Oh, this reaction was so much better than Andrew had predicted. And Andrew was definitely going to take advantage of it. Any and all weak points were area’s he would easily exploit. 

“We’re getting along splendidly,” Andrews grin was all teeth as he turned it onto Josten, challenge evident in his stare, “Neil even agreed to ride to the stadium with us.”

“Oh did he?” Dan’s voice so clear in its scepticism it was almost mocking. They all looked to Neil, waiting for his response. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes,” His face was a cool mask of ease, the lies spilling so easily from his mouth it could be nothing but natural, “I figured Matt’s truck would be full, so I took them up on their offer.”

Dan looked ready to argue, so quick to jump to the little liars defence. She had no idea how dangerous he truly was. None of them did. Matt’s hand on her arm erased whatever words were about to leave her mouth and instead she narrowed a suspicious glare on Andrew and shook her head, “I don’t know who started this, but the fighting stops now.”

“Always the optimist” Andrew quipped, but his sharp gaze was all for Neil as he gave him a two-fingered salute. “See you soon. Don’t run off, okay?”

It was a challenge and a warning. But mostly, it was a dare.

Neil didn’t miss it, the words flowing easily from his lips, as he stared back unflinchingly, “wouldn’t dream of it,”

_Oh, Neil. Neil, Neil. Your lies are getting obvious now._

He was done with this, though. He’d deal with the little threat later, when there weren’t so many bodies to interfere. He spun on his heel and slipped back into his room, Nicky and the other Minyard following dutifully behind. Kevin was last and promptly slammed the door behind him so hard it rattled in the frame.

The violent outburst seemed to do nothing to ease his tension, the thundercloud of anger rolling around in a great, dirty wave. They were staring at him, waiting, but Kevin’s attention was focussed solely the left hand he was clenching and unclenching into a fist.

“What the fuck was that about?” the other Minyard demanded, rounding on Kevin with a scowl.

Andrew rocked back and forth on his heels, the motion of moving but not actually moving was like trying to scratch at an itch with nothing more abrasive than a feather. He hummed tunelessly, eyes stuck on Kevin and refusing to budge.

“Was that French? That was French, right? How did he know you spoke French? What did he say?” Nicky joined in, crowding into Kevin’s space still eclipsed in the doorway. 

Kevin shook his head slowly, fingers clasping into a tight fist before releasing like a spring. Andrew didn’t miss the way the fingers trembled slightly.

The doppelganger crossed his arms, staring Kevin down with his cheap imitation of intimidation, “don’t be a dick, Kevin. Tell us what he said that made you go all ape shit”

Andrew had no patience for Kevin’s stony silence.

“Oh, yes. Such an interesting new development. Do Enlighten the class would you, Kevin? I would very much like to know just what your little pet had to say. Such a violent reaction! How intriguing. Make sure to leave nothing out, yes?” Andrews grin was widening, a warning there that none of them missed.

Kevin finally dragged his gaze away from his hand, his angry frown warped by the agressive working of his jaw. He kept eye contact with Andrew for a beat before letting out a huff and dropping it, “He accused us of going through his things, said we’d regret it next time.” The twist of Kevin’s mouth betrayed just how little stock he held in those words.

“oh, isn’t that perfect!” Andrews grin turned wicked with manic glee.

“Wait, what? When did we go through his things? We literally just got here” Nicky flicked a look around them in confusion.

The other Minyard spared him a pitying look, frown tugged down and eyes a bare movement from rolling, “when do you think?”

Nicky blinked in confusion before his gaze settled on understanding in that wary resignation that seemed to shutter his features frequently.

“Yes, yes. What else?” Andrew waved an impatient hand, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I heard my name, both of you. What could you possibly have to say about little ole me?”

Kevin’s mouth firmed to a line, looking straight back at Andrew, “apparently, if I don’t put a leash on you then he will”

Laughter bubbled up like an overflowing sink filled with far too much detergent. It was harsh, it was cruel, and it was mocking in its twisted amusement. The pure audacity of the little rabbit was overwhelming in its stupidity and Andrew was very much looking forward to making him regret it.

“The rest now, Kevin. I know there’s more. You’re far too self-absorbed to get so wound up over any slander against me” 

Kevin’s mouth twisted, his face turning to a scowl as he stared back down at the healing mess of his left hand, “he called me a cripple. A washed-up has-been”

Andrews’s bark of laughter was short and sharp, twisted and mocking, blunt and cruel-

Nicky sucked a harsh breath in through his teeth, likely feeling the sting, “holy shit”

The other Minyard let out a harsh scoff, head shaking minutely as he worked his jaw, eyes trained on the ground like he was puzzling something out.

-“who knew the great Kevin day had such a fragile ego, hm? How clever of the little rabbit to pick up on it. But wait, I almost forgot. Tell me Kevin, did you tell Josten that you spoke French? Or did he figure that one out for himself?”

“No” the word was dragged out, hesitant. Kevin’s brow furrowed as he thought, then like a lightbulb flashing over his head, he came to the same dawning realisation that Andrew had. His voice was firm this time, “no. No I did not”

The other Minyard’s gaze shot up from the ground, flicking between Andrew and Kevin and narrowing to something harsh, firm with a mix between wary and realisation.

Andrew clicked his tongue, “seems you’re not the only one with secrets, Kevin”

“What does this mean?” Nicky asked, his tone low with concern and something heavy; something weighed down with a tired resolution.

“Columbia, Nicky!” Andrew grinned, and it was all feral teeth, “It means that Neil Josten will be coming to Columbia with us and we’ll give him a night he’ll surely never forget”

And, if he’s lucky, he may just live long enough to regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like usual, its all Nora's with my own little spin.
> 
> thank you for reading,  
> Kudos and comments always appreciated  
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> All usual disclaimers apply and yadda, yadda, yadda


End file.
